


The Chimes Toll A Firestorm

by LordofKavaka



Series: The Seeker of Truth [3]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Angst, Dark Magic, Drama, Epic, F/M, Fantasy, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 65
Words: 261,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordofKavaka/pseuds/LordofKavaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to IN THE WINDS. Now that they are married, will Richard and Kahlan finally find happiness, or will an invasion by an evil foe, plus an insidious plot by a Sister of the Dark, ruin everything? (Includes material from the books)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue – Freedom and Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Original posted on FanFiction.net and LiveJournal.

They cried in joy and delight, soaring through the sky, feeling the wind and the freedom that came with it. For so long they had been trapped in their prison, long forgotten and little cared for. But now, they were free. Mother had said the words and the walls of their captivity had melted away. By the will of mother, they sought out father, the man she loved, and healed him, taking away the vile taint that the magic of the Underworld had scarred him with. The mark was removed, and he lived. And their mother was pleased.

Euphoria overcame them as they broke through the final chains that bound them. Soaring and flying about, they kissed mother with each of their elements and darted out, seeking the fresh air and the joys that came from no longer being held. Today was a new day, a day in which they would finally begin to do what they had been made for, what was their destiny to do.

Fire, air, water were their elements. And they were thrilled to no end to find abundant supplies of all. This world would feel them; know their presence, just as their creators had always intended.

They flew out, separating, each going to do their assigned tasks. Nothing would impede or hinder their work; nothing could stop them. They were relentless and single-minded. No amount of persuasion could divert them from their task. Their destiny.

They had finally tasted freedom, and they were not going to give it up.

XXX

Despite the warmth of the water in the pool, a shiver ran up her spine. Cynthia looked over her shoulder, and sighed with vexation when she realized she had allowed her imagination to run away with her.

She stood naked and alone in the large pool, cleaning herself in the warm waters. She was puzzled and confused to what Sister Bree had planned for her. It had been horrible seeing the Emperor unleash his rage on the poor women. Something had happened in regards to this Lord Rahl that had greatly upset him, and he took Bree in such ways that Cynthia shuddered with horror at witnessing them. The Sister had saved her from such things by interceding when the Emperor had grabbed her hair and declared that it was time for him to take her.

But then, afterwards, she had been sent to this large bath to clean. She ducked her head underneath the water, worried that the Emperor would come and take her. She'd seen how he enjoyed having his way with Sister Bree while in this pool. He'd push her against the edge and take her from behind. But as time passed, and he did not appear, Cynthia began to relax.

She waded deeper into the pool and thought about this woman they said she looked so much a like… this Kahlan Amnell. Whoever she was, she was a very important woman, and strong of spirit. With how Bree had been coaching her in how to behave and speak, Cynthia wondered how anyone could even mistake her for such a woman. Cynthia was nothing like this Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor—whatever that was. Bree had tried to explain what a confessor was, but Cynthia still did not understand. There were no such women in the Old World.

The Old World was a place of men and their laws. Of the Imperial Order, and the will of the Creator, or at least that is what the Brotherhood pontificated. If no one obeyed them, then they were executed as heretics and nonbelievers. When the soldiers had come to her town, and her husband had refused to hand her over, they grabbed him and proclaimed him a heretic. Then they proceeded to rape her, forcing her love to watch. When they had finished with her, they strung her husband up and hanged him. They took her away, adding her to the many women in the trains of slave tents. She never saw her home ever again.

Those days that followed had been brutal. Each night men would come to the tents and rape the women. The guards called them the army's whores, but they were not whores, they were captives and slaves, taken for the amusement of the men. Then, one day, the one of the Emperor's men saw her, and she no longer had to spend her nights in the tents, no longer had to spread her legs. She served as the wine girl at the Emperor's table. And when he was not eating, she cleaned and assisted the cooks.

Then, after one meal, the wizard Neville's eye caught sight of her and he took her back to his chambers, forcing her to take him in her mouth, and then commanding her to spread her legs for him. She had been confused and perplexed as he kept muttering the name "Kahlan" as he took her. At the time Cynthia did not know what the future held for her. She had been afraid that this was to be her lot in life, serving this vile wizard, who enjoyed the feel of her flesh. But at least she only had to spread her legs for him, and not anyone else. It was an easier existence than spending the nights in the tents.

After many nights with Neville between her legs, Cynthia was relieved when she was handed over to the Emperor's whore. The woman was smaller than her, with a lithe slender body and a beautiful face, framed by light brown hair. Her green eyes looked over Cynthia and a cruel smile formed on her face. She was taken before the Emperor, and he declared that no man was to touch her, not even Neville. Cynthia had been so relieved that she had failed to notice how the Emperor had leered at her naked body.

Sister Bree, the Emperor's whore, took her aside and told her about the Lord Rahl. That was when Cynthia had learned of this Kahlan Amnell, and her physical resemblance to her. For months she trained with Sister Bree, learning about the Mother Confessor and her mannerisms and patterns of speech. It was not long until everyone, including the Emperor, agreed that Cynthia spoke and moved exactly like this Kahlan. Then… that night came where the Emperor threatened to take her. But Bree had stepped in and taken the beating instead.

Now, Cynthia was in the warm pool, cleaning herself. According to Bree, it was approaching the time in which she was to use what she had learned and gain the Lord Rahl's favor. She ran her hand along her chest, rubbing the soap in, wondering what sort of man this Richard Rahl was, and would he really be gullible enough to believe that she, Cynthia, was Kahlan Amnell, the woman he loved.

The door opened, and Cynthia took in a sharp breath, afraid it was going to be the Emperor. But it was only Sister Bree, dressed in silky red robes, with a matching veil held back, resting down the back of her head. The Emperor's whore folded her hands together above her waist and looked down on her with her commanding green eyes.

"It is time, Cynthia," she said.

Cynthia nodded and slowly waded out of the pool. Bree helped her dry, and then the Sister produced some dark garments. Cynthia looked through them and furrowed her brow.

"What are these?" she asked.

Bree smirked. "Good! When you talk now you sound exactly like her," the Sister said. "There is no hesitation or break. Excellent." She paused, and smiled again. "As to your question, these are the Mother Confessor's traveling clothes. One of our spies was able to steal them. Try them on."

Cynthia narrowed her eyes, examining the clothes. They looked about her size, but it felt odd to put on someone else's clothing. She first pulled the corset on and laced it up with Bree's help. She blushed, noticing how it pushed her breasts together, accentuating her womanly form. She pulled on the bodice and slipped her legs through the skirt, wondering why a woman of such high station would be wearing an outfit that showed so much of her legs. The high black boots were a little snug, but the fit well enough. And the jacket, with an attached hood, fit perfectly.

After finishing, Bree stepped back and nodded in approval. "Perfect," she proclaimed smiling. "The Lord Rahl will believe you are the Mother Confessor."

Cynthia folded her arms across her breasts, and took a deep breath. "Do I really have to sleep with him?" she questioned, a little worried that he would be a fierce and brutal lover like Neville had been to her… like the Emperor was to Bree.

Bree raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she said. "From what our spies have told us, the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor married not but three days ago." The Sister stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Just imagine him as your husband… because that is what he will be for all intensive purposes. And believe me, from what we've learned about the Mother Confessor, she can hardly keep her hands off him. You must be both eager and attentive to him in the bed, he will expect nothing less from the woman who loves him."

Cynthia tucked a strand of her dark hair behind an ear and nodded. Her husband was dead, but soon she would have a new one… one that the Imperial Order also wanted dead. Cynthia was unsure about being used for such wicked purposes, but in the end it did not matter. Her love had been taken from her and she wanted to join him in the Underworld, if she would have to submit to this Master of D'Hara and allow him inside her, then she would.

"Ready?" Bree asked.

Cynthia nodded. "Yes, I am ready."

Bree stepped up before her. "All right… then let me hear you say his name," she said. "I want to hear the love in your voice… telling him that you love him… say it as you would when I leave him with you."

Cynthia took a deep breath, feeling her breasts press together as the corset held them up. "I love you, Richard," she said, putting as much love into her voice as possible. "I love you so much… please, don't leave me… don't leave me."

A thin cruel smile formed on the lips of the Sister of the Dark. "You will do well, Cynthia…," her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and she gave a mocking bow of her head. "I mean… Mother Confessor."


	2. Reaping of the Chimes

The first thing he heard was a woman scream, or was it a wolf's howl? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was awake, and there was a blinding pain throbbing in his head. Grabbing his temple, and clenching his teeth against the pain, he stood up swinging himself around wildly as he searched for the source of the noise. Stumbling around he bucked to and fro, grasping for insight and knowledge to his location and the happenings occurring around him.

He was vaguely aware that it was raining. A storm was raging around him. The droplets of falling water hit against him with ferocious strikes, as if they were daggers piercing his skin. He groaned, the agony in his head increasing as he wobbled and nearly feel. Something caught his fall. He could not see it. Whatever it was, it was firm and strong, yet at the same time soft and delicate. Lightning struck, illuminating the woods that surrounded him, bathing him in light.

Blinking in the sudden brightness, he reached up to feel whatever it was that was holding him. It stirred, and moved. It was alive, he knew that much. Struggling mightily to lift the veil of fog from his head, he closed his eyes, attempting to drive out the pain, or at least suppress it. But it was too much. It wailed and seared through his brain like the storm twisted and fought above him. He collapsed to his knees, splashing up mud, and cried out from the torment. The agony was becoming too much to bear.

Then he heard it; it was not a scream or a cry, or even a howl, but a soft and gentle voice. It called to him, calling him by name, asking—nay pleading, with him to return… return to her. Clutching his middle, his chest heaved as he sought out oxygen to help fuel his body in its war against the pain. With each breath, the torment that waged inside of him lessened. He wrapped himself around the voice, pulling it to him, focusing all his attention and energy on listening to it.

He knew the voice. It was familiar and important to him. Precious, really. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and he longed to see and recognize the source. However, the pain sprang forth again and sealed his mind away. He doubled over, letting himself scream, banging his fist against the murky ground as he tried to simply endure it.

Endure. That is what he must do; simply endure what was happening to him. He could not fight it; it was impossible to do so. The wall too high. The mountain too steep. He dared not try and fail, for failure certainly meant death. Whatever was happening to him, he allowed it to occur. Only then, did the pain lessen and the torment fade.

Finally filling his lungs with an onslaught of agony that rippled through his body, he opened his eyes, and squinted through the sheets of rain at the face before him. He cursed, his vision still blurry and hazy. He desperately wanted to see, but his body was slow to respond. As his chest rose and fill with each breath, things slowly became clear. Like a puzzle that had sat for so long without completion, bits and pieces finally seem to come together.

"Richard," the beautiful voice came. "Richard?"

It was so exquisite and wonderful, the greatest sound he had ever heard. A smile touched his lips simply at the hearing of it. A low hum rose up from his throat and he swayed slightly in the enjoyment of the hearing of the voice.

"Come back to me, Richard, please," the voice pleaded, the anguish and worry evident. "You cannot leave me, not now. I love you. Don't leave!"

His mind snapped and flames soared and scorched through his head obliterating and sending his thoughts scattering. He knew this voice... he knew it! It was heavenly and endearing, and the most important voice in the world, yet he could not remember the name of the woman. She was gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes that held such strength and hidden intelligence. Her pale face was framed by long dark hair that gleamed raven black in the flashes of lightning.

As he gazed at her, his eyes focused on her lips, as he licked his own, believing that those lips begged to be kissed. They looked so soft and moist, so inviting. All he wanted to do was seize them in his own and murmur soft nothings to them as he tenderly caressed them.

But something was plaguing him. Who was this Richard? And why was she calling for him? He shook his head, as lightning illuminated the woods for him, giving him a better view of this goddess before him. Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled in the most adorable little away that he wanted to simply grab a hold of her and never let go.

Without thinking, he reached out and snatched her head in his hands, and pulled her towards him. He rammed his mouth against hers, shoving his tongue out, forcing her lips to part and open up to him. He was startled and pleasantly surprised with her response. She eased into him and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, deepening the kiss.

His own hands raked through her soaked hair, loving the silky feel of it, even when it was wet. Her skin was so smooth and soft, delicate and refined; it was white, like cream, and just as sweet to the taste. He closed his eyes and leaned back as she eased over him, pushing him to the ground, her hands gripping at him. A primal need seemed to latch on to him, as she climbed on top of him, pushing harder and running her fingers through his hair. His fingers danced down her back, tickling in places he somehow knew where ticklish, and then he latched on to her bottom, squeezing and pulling her closer.

Then, bam, his senses returned to him and he sat up, easing her off. He took a breath and looked around, finding only himself in a clearing surrounded by gnarled trees with thick underbrush. The rain continued, and he blinked, shielding his eyes with a hand. He narrowed his eyes, examining the panting woman before him. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving for breath. With each rise and fall, her bosom strained against the confines of her dress, almost wanting to break free.

"That was some kiss, Richard," she said, smiling at him, tilting her head up, then winking and slipping off him, easing down beside him, kneading her head into his shoulder. "I think the rain is getting to your head, remembering a certain waterfall…" her voice trailed off as she reached over with a hand and stroked the side of his face. "Oh, how I love you, my Seeker, my Lord Rahl… my Richard."

"Who is this Richard?" he blurted out.

The beautiful woman backed away from him and her brow furrowed, her eyebrows shooting up in concern. "Are you joking with me? Because, if you are, it's not funny," she narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a fierce glare.

He shook his head. "No…," he muttered. "So…? Who is this Richard you keep talking about?"

"All right, you want to play this game, fine!" she smirked and slipped around him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and straddling his lap with her legs. She rose above him, her long lush hair cascading down her face as the rain continued to fall upon them. "You are Richard Rahl, the Seeker of Truth, the Lord of all D'Hara, and husband to me… Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands."

"Kahlan?" he tested the name out on his lips, and smirked with how easy and welcomed it felt.

"Yes, I'm Kahlan and you're Richard," she said, placing a hand on his chest, just above his heart, her eyes beaming. "And we just spent three glorious days in the place that is hidden… and for some reason, when you commanded the sliph to take us back to the Wizard's Keep, she dropped us off here, in the middle of the woods."

So his name was Richard, and this woman… this Kahlan, was his wife. He smiled, wondering what he had possible done that had rewarded him with such an exquisite woman to love and hold. He looked into her brilliant blue eyes and saw love reflecting back at him. It was almost overwhelming seeing such emotions directed at him when he could scarcely remember why he deserved them.

"Oh, Richard," she rolled her eyes, yet smiled at him affectionately, as she caressed his cheek with a hand. "Sometimes you're odd, you know that?" Kahlan leaned forward and kissed him slowly, suggestively sucking on his lower lip as she backed away. Her eyes sparkled with promises he vowed he would make her keep.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows. "All right, Kahlan," he said, saying her name, loving the way if felt on his lips. "If you're my wife, answer me this…" she inclined her head, as if to go along with his foolish game—though to him, this was no game. "What's a sliph? What is D'Hara? What does Mother Confessor mean? And what exactly is a Seeker of Truth?"

XXX

They giggled with delight watching mother and father reap what they had sowed. The three had been full of mischief and had sought them out, thinking to have a little fun. One touched father with her fire, while the other summoned the rain which now poured down on the two. Rollicking around with amusement and mirth, the watched as mother became to comprehend the result of their fun. Their sister watched, fully enjoying the spectacle, but had yet to join in.

Slowly, the wind picked up and began whipping around mother and father, causing much mayhem. The three of them laughed as now all of them had played a part in their little playtime with mother and father. They watched as mother's frowned and lowered her voice, grabbing father's hand and pulling him into the safety of the woods. The three contemplating doing more, but they were growing bored quickly, so they left, to have their fun elsewhere; there was much that need doing, much chaos and fun to be had.

XXX

Kahlan's heart was pounding in her chest as the wind picked up and blew her hair erratically around her face. Something was wrong with Richard; he was speaking nonsense. She had ceased to believe he was playing some silly game. His eyes held no humor or mirth at what he was saying. She clutched his hand as she pulled him into the woods, seeking both shelter and protection from the elements.

She still wondered why the sliph had brought them here, instead of Aydindril. Richard had tried to reason with quicksilver being, but something had changed in the creature, and it would not listen. It folded his silver arms and plunged itself back into the silver waters of its well, not caring to listen or serve.

It troubled Kahlan that she did not know where they were, or how far they were to their intended destination. Before their wedding, she knew that the Imperial Order had begun their invasion, and that it would not be safe for them to wander alone in the wilderness, even if Richard had the Sword of Truth to protect them. And she was glad to have her dark traveling dress, instead of her blue wedding dress.

Apparently, while she was preparing for their wedding, Richard and slipped away and secreted away some supplies at the place that was hidden, knowing that he intended for them to be there for a couple of days. Kahlan smiled, remembering that she had no need for clothing during those three days. However, it was nice to have something to wear in this pouring rain. Her blue dress was safely packed away in their pack, and she was looking forward to returning to Aydindril and the Confessor's Palace, so that she and Richard could "break in" her big bed.

But now, her thoughts were being tormented by what Richard had said. He was asking strange and baffling questions, the answers to which he should already know. She was afraid that this might be some yet unknown side effect of his time in the Underworld, a further payment for coming back to life. Or perhaps it was a result of these Chimes.

Yes, that's what they were called. Richard had finally told her what those three names she had said were. She almost slapped him afterwards, horrified that he had allowed her to call such heinous demon-like entities into the world. However, when she thought back on it, she did not care. She would have done it all over again, if only to bring her Richard back.

She found an overhang of branches and rocks that provided some shelter from the unrelenting rain, and dove under it, pulling Richard with her. He plopped down on the ground beside her and looked over at her with questioning eyes.

Kahlan did not have the time to answer all of his questions, let alone know how to even where to begin. All she knew is that she had to get him back to Zedd as soon as possible. If anyone could help, it would be Zedd… or perhaps Nicci. The sorceress would probably know what to do. Kahlan took a deep breath to calm her fried nerves and narrowed her eyes as she examined Richard. She crouched and ran her hands over his scalp, feeling for bumps, anything that might tell her why he was behaving so strangely.

Richard sighed at her touch, and she knew that somewhere, deep down inside, he knew her, and loved her. The way he kissed her had been all to telling in that regard. When she finished her examination, she was disappointed to find no evidence to indicate how he had been afflicted with this sudden loss of memory. He looked up at her with a troubled look.

"Something is wrong with me, right?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "I can tell, your eyes scream concern."

"Yes, Richard, I'm afraid so," she replied as she sat back down next to him, wrapping her arms around herself, worried and cold.

A faint smile formed on his lips. "Well, at least I have you, Kahlan… my wife?" he smirked, though his eyes looked lost and confused.

"What's so funny?" Kahlan asked, wrinkling her nose, not finding any of this the less bit amusing.

"Oh nothing," Richard said, smiling, his eyes gazing over at her. And despite his current stay, she could see desire swimming in those warm browns. That brought her a little comfort, to know that despite his condition, deep down, hidden in the recesses of his heart, he still loved and desired her. "I just can't believe I'm lucky enough to be married to such a beautiful woman, one who is still by my side, even when I can't even remember our wedding night."

Kahlan's heart leapt up into her throat. He could not remember their wedding night! She had to bit back her tongue to prevent a cry of anguish at the thought of Richard not remembering the heights of ecstasy he had given her for three days. If she had not been wearing the necklace, laced with magic to prevent conception, that Shota had given her, Kahlan believed she would already be with child. He'd released his seed into her so many times that she'd be surprised if she were not.

Seeming to sense her sudden onslaught of worry and despair, Richard reached out and squeezed her hand. It had the same loving quality it always had, but something was missing from it… the knowledge of her. Kahlan took a deep breath and turned back to her husband, the man she loved more than life itself, the man who no longer remember marrying her.

"We'll find out what's happened to you, my Richard," she murmured, caressing his face, pleased when he closed his eyes and eased into her touch. "Then," she could not help but smile. "We'll create some new memories."


	3. An Insidious Plot

Tiptoeing softly through the underbrush of the trees, Sister Bree clutched the cloak around her slender frame tightly. She hated the rain and the cold, preferring the warm winters of the Old World. Here, in the New World, things tended to either extreme, either too hot or too cold. From what she had seen so far of these Midlands, she did not know why the Imperial Order craved it so. Compared to the Old World, the three territories were just an insect. A small and insignificant insect. She found it quite amusing that three thousand years ago the Great War had been fought between the pathetic wizards of the New World against those of the Old, and that the New World had won.

Both were fools, each creating weapons they could not control. The wizard's from where she was from had created the dreamwalkers, and thanks to them, the Emperor now yoked her. To counter the dreamwalkers, a wizard from D'Hara, named Alric Rahl, used his knowledge as a war wizard to create a bond between him and his people, protecting them from the powers of the dreamwalkers. The stakes just rose from there, and the plague was created, and then followed by something far more dangerous and deadly. Bree could feel their presence in this world, and had felt it the moment they had been birthed, freed from their eternal prison in the Underworld.

Her evidence was the waning strength of some of her magic. It was becoming more difficult and taking a lot more energy to simply heal herself after the Emperor had his way with her in all her orifices. She hated him all the more when he made it difficult for her to simple stand or walk, let along sit. Bree vowed that one day, when the Keeper no longer needed her to service the Emperor, she would kill him, and send him the cold embrace of her eternal father.

A soft cry called her focus back to the present. She looked behind her and frowned. Cynthia had tripped over a creeping root that had decided to stick itself up out of the ground. The twin of the Mother Confessor in body stumbled slightly and reached out with a delicate hand to stop herself from falling. That was when her lips parted and she issued a soft cry. Cynthia immediately knew she had done something wrong, because she instantly froze and her eyes went wide with terror, her countenance one of fearful anticipation.

Bree turned on her, tempted to give her a good slap, but restrained herself, knowing that they were soon approaching their goal. Cynthia had to look perfect, and this rain was not helping. The make-up they had painstakingly taken the time to apply was running down her face, and but thankfully her natural beautiful was showing through the disaster. Bree figured that Mother Confessor must look the same, so it really did not matter. She held Cynthia's gaze for a moment, chiding the woman with just a look, before turning back and continuing on.

If what she had learned from the silly sliph creature had been true, the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor were somewhere near by. She had used the last of some of her magic to manipulate the quicksilver being into doing her bidding and sending the pair to this isolated wilderness not far from the D'Haran borders. Aydindril was about a four days ride, strong horses willing, from here, and Bree knew that once the storm passed, the Lord Rahl would be able to use his knowledge of scouting and tracking to find their way with the aid of the stars. That was why it was so important that they make the switch as soon as possible. Time was of the essence, and Cynthia tripping was only causing delays.

She prayed to her eternal father that the hapless girl was up for this. Much was being asked of her, and a lot rode on Cynthia successfully convincing the Lord Rahl that she was the Mother Confessor. Bree took a deep breath to calm her nerves; she had never felt this anxious before. Nothing had caused her to be this apprehensive, not even the night she lost her maidenhood. Today she was going to set a plot in motion, which, if everything went according to plan, would ensure the victory of the Imperial Order and the defeat of the Midlands. And the Keeper, her eternal father, would have an endless supply of souls.

Bree's ears perked up when she heard voices. She held up her hand to halt her companion and strained her neck to look over her shoulder at Cynthia, watching with hard eyes as the woman stopped and remained silent. Bree eased away and planted herself behind a tree, slowly peeking out to the sight beyond. A cruel smile fixed itself to her face when she glimpsed the very people she had been searching for.

The Mother Confessor was dressed in exactly the same outfit that they had dressed Cynthia in… it was almost too perfect. The Lord Rahl was gazing up at her with that childish puppy dog love he had for her, listening with rapt attention as she spoke. Bree clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. The circumstances appeared in her favor. All she'd have to do is wait and an opportunity would present itself.

Slinking away from the tree, Bree gathered Cynthia and brought the woman over, peering over the top of a huckleberry brush. Bree pointed at the Lord Rahl.

"That is Richard Rahl," Bree spoke is a hushed voice, thankful for the rain, the pitter patter no doubt helping to mask her soft voice from the unsuspecting lovers.

Cynthia's stunning blue eyes glanced over and stopped, her cheeks flushing with a girlish blush. "I… I did not expect him to be so handsome," the woman said.

Bree rolled her eyes. "Why else would the Mother Confessor even deign to look at him?" she whispered, looking back as the Mother Confessor reached out and touched the Lord Rahl's cheek.

Cynthia averted her eyes and turned around, kneeling in the mud. "They look so much in love," she murmured. "Is this really necessary?"

Bree bit her lower lip, resisting the urge to scream and shout at the simple woman. She took a deep breath through her nostrils and squatted down neck to Cynthia. "They are the ones standing in the way of order crushing chaos," she said. "Do you really want chaos to roam the lands and bring about a bitter darkness?"

Cynthia narrowed her eyes and gave a defiant look. "Your master does not bring order," she nearly spat. "He is the bringer of chaos, not this Lord Rahl. From what I've seen, the Order is the enemy."

Bree could not hold herself back and she slapped Cynthia. It was not a hard slap, and left no mark, but it got her point across. Cynthia lowered her head and asked for forgiveness for speaking out of turn. Bree tilted the woman's head up by her chin and looked into the startling blue eyes.

"Remember, it is the Keeper we truly serve, not the Emperor," Bree said. "With the rise of the Order, a new era shall be born, one which the Keeper shall reign supreme."

Cynthia nodded. "And when I have done my service, the Keeper will restore life to my husband?"

Bree smiled and gave a nod. It was a lie, but it was a necessary and easy one to tell to ensure Cynthia's loyalty. The poor girl believed anything, and it made her work harder on her part of the plan, believing that when she fulfilled her role in this plot, she would be rewarded with the return of her beloved husband. It would never happened, at least not in this world. Once Cynthia had served her purpose, she'd be killed and would then reunite with her deceased husband in the Underworld, like all lost souls eventually do.

"Now quiet, Cynthia… sweet Cynthia," Bree murmured softly, running her fingers gently down the woman's arm. She'd grown quite fond of the woman and it was going to be hard to kill her, but as all things, it was for the Keeper, so Bree would not blink or hesitate when the time came. "Soon… very soon, you will be the Mother Confessor."

XXX

Richard held her hand in his as she talked. To be honest, he wasn't really paying that much attention to what she was saying, he was lost in the sheer beauty that was this woman. Without a doubt she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and he still had trouble believing that such a woman could possibly be his wife. As he held her hand, his fingers slowly caressed her soft skin and delicate hands. Then he felt something cold and metallic. He glanced down and smiled, seeing the gold band on her ring finger.

Holding up his own hand to inspect it, he saw a similar band on his finger. His smile widened and he gazed back up at her. "How was our wedding?" he interrupted her.

Kahlan seemed taken aback, but she smiled. "It was lovely, Richard," she said, placing a tender hand on his cheek.

"What did you wear?" he asked, holding her head tightly, not wanting to let this gorgeous woman out of his sight.

"A blue dress," she replied, looking away for a moment, before gazing back at him, her eyes filled with an undying love the brought a rapture to his very core. He knew, somehow, someplace within him was knowledge of this woman. There just had to be, why else would heart flutter and skip every time she looked at him.

"You must have looked stunning," Richard replied, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"You thought so, but you were more eager to get me out of it," Kahlan laughed softly and looked down, her face creasing with sorrow.

He felt a pang in his heart, knowing that he must be the cause of such hurt. If only he could remember… he wanted too, so much, but try as he might, he could not. Richard reached over and placed a hand under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.

"I will remember," he attested. "I know I will. How can I possible forget such a woman as you, Kahlan Amnell?"

Her eyebrows rose playfully and she leaned forward to kiss him. It should feel odd, kissing a woman he hardly knew, but for some reason it felt right, and it was as if his body remembered her touch and her feel. He grabbed her head in his hands and held her to him, heaving deeply as he plunged his mouth into hers, kissing her with such passion that he wanted to consummate the marriage he did not remember all over again.

Kahlan pushed back, gasping for air, her chest rose and fell and he could not help but stare at her, basking in the womanly perfection that was Kahlan Amnell, his wife… his love? "You said that I am the Lord Rahl and you are the Mother Confessor?" he waited for her to nod in confirmation. "Then did we marry out of duty to our people, our respective kingdoms, or did we marry for love."

Kahlan press her lips against his once more, and he could feel her smile. "What do you think?" she murmured huskily in to his ear as she back out and latched onto him in a fierce embrace.

Richard smiled and he tugged at her, pulling her closer. "If I'd have to guess, I would say love."

"Then you have guessed correctly, my Richard," Kahlan said, leaning back and taking a breath. "Now, wait here. I need to retrieve our pack."

He stood to come with her, but she eased him back, lingering a moment to give him one last kiss. It was slowly and tender, making him wish to melt right their and simply be forever with Kahlan Amnell. "Stay and rest," she commanded. "I wouldn't want my husband slipping and hitting his head, only to forgot all which I have just reminded him."

Richard grinned wildly. "Yes, my wife," he promised. "I shall eagerly await your return."

Kahlan gave him a smile that warmed his heart, and he felt as if it was the kind of smile that she would only ever give him. Their hands slowly drifted apart until only their fingers touched, and then she was gone.

He sat back and let out a breath, his heart beating with great force in his chest as his thoughts lingered on this Kahlan Amnell. He did not know why, but he wanted to possess her, to be with her, in ever sense of the word. Richard had a gut feeling that they belonged together, and that they had fought and stood side by side through much hardships and chaos.

Even with no memories of what had been, he felt drawn to Kahlan. His soul yearned for her, cried out her name, pleading to the very nature of life itself to allow everything she said to be true. That he was her husband, and he had her love. If there was anything he could salvage from this situation, it was the knowledge that he had the love of this beautiful woman.

Richard waited, listening the rain pitter patter against the rocks and trees, wanting nothing more than to be with Kahlan, to hold her and kiss her. He wanted to reassure this woman who loved him that though he did not remember his time with her, he would remain fateful to the vow he had, no doubt, made when he placed the ring on her finger, and she on his. He held out his hand and gazed upon the gold band, smiling.

There was sudden noise and he looked up at see Kahlan making her way with haste through the bramble and brush. The pack was slung over her shoulder, as she rushed for him. He stood, distressed and worried, seeing the alarm etched on her face.

"What is it?" he asked, when she reached him.

She paused for a moment, looking apprehensive, then reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. "We've got to get out of here… now!"


	4. Oblivious

Kahlan ran in front of him, her hand holding his tightly. Richard did not know what had caused this sudden need to run, but he was willing to follow. Wherever Kahlan led, he would follow.

They went plowing through the foliage, making no excuses for the harshness of their treatment to any fern or branch that got in their way. Kahlan was in a frantic state, her chest was heaving and her eyes wild, as if she was afraid of something. It worried Richard. He had hoped that when she had returned they could continue where they left off. Richard was looking forward to getting to know his wife all over again.

If she was truly his wife, he wanted nothing more in this world than to get to know her… all of her. Explore her and allow her to explore him. He wanted to feel her touch, her caress, to know what it was like to be with her, the woman who loved him, who had married him and stayed by his side when he had suffered this troubling memory loss. It was not just her physical beauty that attracted him to her, but something about her spirit… it was so strong and noble, so breathtaking. And so very enticing. She was gorgeous, both inside and out, and he wished to know her fully, like he obviously had before.

They ran for a while, Kahlan leading, until the rain stopped and they approached a clearing with a fallen tree covered in thick greenish white lichen. Kahlan paused, breathing deeply, her eyes looking around, as if surveying the area for any danger. Richard stood behind her, catching his own breath, his chest heaving with each gulp of air. Finally, she seemed to relax and she turned to face him.

Richard lost his breath at the sight of her. She was soaked, and her skin glistened in sweat. Her bosom heaved with each breath, all slick and moist with the evidence of their rapid exertion. He could not help but stare at her breasts, as with each breath, they rose and fell before him. The corset she wore pressed them together, and they were practically begging for release.

Her mouth was slightly ajar, her lips quivering and supple, looking oh so inviting. Her cheeks were flushed with the rush of adrenalin from their stampede through the forest, giving them a rosy color. Her eyes… her beautiful sparkling blue eyes looked at him with a concerned and worried look, as if she was afraid, yet he knew not why.

"Kahlan… what is it?" he asked, panting, wanting to know what had caused the drastic change in her mood.

Without answering him, Kahlan dropped the pack, letting it fall to the grass covered ground with a thud, and pounced on him. Her supple and soft lips met his. Richard groaned in delight at the feelings her lips summoned up inside him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him closer, pressing her breasts against his hard chest. His hands sought out her silky hair and he caressed her, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her jaw, as she pushed into him even harder.

Richard stumbled backwards as Kahlan pushed him to the fallen tree. He sat down, as she wrapped her legs around his middle. He was rapidly loosing all self control and worry. Simply having this wonderful woman kissing him with such abandon and passion was enough to distract him from the nagging concerns and questions roaring in the back of his mind.

He groaned as he felt her thigh brush against the growing arousal in his trousers, and she let out a soft laugh, feeling it. She arched her neck back and allowed him access, as he slammed his mouth against the inviting flesh between her neck and shoulder, giving her wet kisses as he sucked and tickled her.

He backed away as she removed her jacket. Her blue eyes were glassy, fogged with lust and desire. He took a deep breath, worried that now was not the right time to do this. After all, just a few moments ago something had terrified her enough to cause her to direct them to flee from their sheltered spot. But as she began undoing her corset, giving him teasing glances at her flesh, Richard lost all inhibitions, losing himself in the beauty that was Kahlan.

Richard let out a throaty breath of want as her breasts came free of their prison, Kahlan tossing the corset aside. She grabbed his head in her hands, plunging his face into her chest. He kissed and licked her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue. Kahlan moaned softly and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him tighter, commanding him to continue. He brought his hands up to join his mouth. He squeezed and caressed her breasts, loving the feel of them in his hands. He tickled her and teased her, only causing his wife to laugh slightly and groan in want.

Then she pushed him back and grabbed his mouth in hers, shoving her tongue in, igniting a burning feeling in him, as he closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her… his brow furrowed. Something was different. They had kissed like this before she had went off to find their pack; she had tasted very differently then. He was confused and perplexed, the change vexing him.

But Kahlan's ministrations pulled his thoughts away from the questions beginning to form in his mind, as she slowly slipped off his lap, kneeling on the wet ground before him. Her delicate fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and unlaced his trousers. Richard's eyes widened as he watched her hand slip to his trousers, grabbing him in her hand and pulling him out. And then she was on him, opening wide and taking him into her mouth.

Richard arched his back and his head rolled backwards as he groaned in exquisite pleasure as the warmth and wetness of her mouth descended upon his aroused state. Her tongue teased him and her fingers fiddled around the base of his hardness, tickling and exciting him in ways that were too indescribable to put into words. His arousal was becoming even harder in her mouth as she continued to work on him. Richard tugged at her hair, brushing it back from her face to watch, shivering and gasping in panting breaths at the pleasure she brought him.

Her wonderful blue eyes looked up at him and she backed up, teasing the tip of his hardness with a kiss, before holding it in her hands and slowly stroking it. "Richard," she spoke softly, her eyes gazing up at his with such wanton desire that all he could do was gasp her name in response. "Will you do something for me?"

All he could do was nod in affirmation.

"Make love to me, Richard, please," she begged, pouting.

"Kahlan, I don't know if it's wise to do so, under the present circumstances," he breathed, trying to protest.

She had already done enough to prove just how much she loved him… how much she would do to please him. He would never have asked her to do what she had just done. No woman should be forced to do that to a man against her will, but she had done it on her own accord. Without him having to ask, she had sought to bring him pleasure, not because he had asked, but because she loved him and wanted to please him. At least, that's what his mind was telling him.

"But, Kahlan, what about the loss of my—"

Kahlan placed a finger on his trembling lips as she rose above him, silencing him. Her hand darted under her skirt, and he watched as she tugged her underthings down past her knees. She moved over him, positioning herself.

"I'm your wife, Richard Rahl," she told to him, looking deeply into his eyes. "And you're wife has certain needs. Needs that as her husband, you must fulfill when called upon." She paused, leaning down to kiss him. "And now, I'm telling you to make love to me, my husband, my Lord Rahl… my Richard."

Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How could he refuse this woman? She was his wife, and he her husband. He had already made love to her, she had said as much before. Even if he had no memories of the events surrounding their betrothal and marriage, they were wedded and in love, as she had told him, so why shouldn't he make love to her?

"Whatever you command, Kahlan," he submitted, holding her in his arms, as she lowed her hips over him. Her mouth dropped and she let out a soft gasp as he entered her. Their eyes locked as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and together, as one, they began to make love.

XXX

"No," Kahlan wailed, tears dripping down her cheeks, unable to stop what she was being forced to watch. She knew she could not blame Richard, not with how the woman looked like her, and especially with the loss of memory. A sharp tug pulled her eyes away from the sight. The last she glimpsed was Richard pushing the woman to the ground, fully freeing himself of his trousers, as Cynthia spread her legs wide, inviting him to plunge himself even deeper into her. Cynthia moaned and arched herself into him as he made love to her.

Kahlan fell onto the ground crying as a sharp cruel laugh filled the afternoon air. She looked up and glared at her captor. It had been clear from the first that the woman was a Sister of the Dark, the red robes she wore under her cloak giving her away. Kahlan had been unprepared for the attack, and had been utterly shocked when she had grasp the woman's neck and tried to confess her, only to feel nothing inside her rise up. No powers, no storm. Nothing. Her core was empty and she had no ability to defend herself with the use of her powers.

The Sister of the Dark had quickly subdued her with her magic and then chained her with a collar and leash. The Sister had laughed, telling her companion that she had always wanted a pet, but had never thought to have one as exquisite as the Mother Confessor. Kahlan turned and had looked upon this companion and had lost her breath.

Bewildered and shocked, Kahlan had found herself staring at a mirror image. The woman looked exactly like her, even down to her eyes and the shape of her body. Spirits, even their breasts looked the same size. The woman was an exact match to her. The Sister grinned, pleased with Kahlan's reaction.

"Yes, Cynthia," the Sister said. "What did I tell you, even the Mother Confessor, herself, sees the resemblance."

Kahlan shook her head and turned back on the Sister of the Dark. "What do you want!" she cried, despite herself.

A cruel twisted smirk formed on the Sister's mouth. "Why you, of course, Mother Confessor," she said. "The Emperor has been chomping at the bit to have a taste of the Mother Confessor, and apparently he soon will. With the Chimes unleashed, all magic is failing. I believe we have you to thank for that, Kahlan Amnell."

Kahlan shuddered with the realization that the words she had spoken had, indeed, been as dreadful and terrible as Zedd had feared. Magic was a crucial part of the Midlands. Of life. There were many magic creatures that could not survive without it, and if they died, the circle of life, the balance that had been kept would be broken, and soon everything would die. Kahlan looked up at the Sister and saw gloating sparkling in her green eyes.

"You know this, don't you, Mother Confessor?" the Sister asked, leaning forward, pulling at the chain. "Good!" Her mean green eyes scanned her then saw something. "Cynthia, come here!" she ordered the woman who looked so much like her.

Kahlan watched as the woman came over and averted her blue eyes from her gaze. It still startled and scared her at how the woman seemed to be a complete likeness of her. And since magic was indeed failing, she knew that this trick was not something done with a spell. Which, unfortunately, meant this woman truly resembled her in body, and had required no magic to help with that.

She had a feeling that this woman had been abused and manipulated into doing what she was, but it was still hard to watch as the Sister of the Dark yanked her wedding ring off and slid it on Cynthia's. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the woman pick up the pack and dart away from them, heading back to Richard.

The Sister turned on Kahlan and pulled at the chain, pulling her along behind her. Kahlan did not know what was going to be done with her, but with the threats of the Emperor wanting to "taste" her, Kahlan feared the worse. And because of this look-alike and his loss of memory, Richard would not know that she was missing. He would not be able to save her this time. She was going to have to do that herself.

What Kahlan had been unprepared for was when the Sister of the Dark had pulled them in the direction the false Kahlan had ran, taking them behind, following at a steady pace. Through the pronged ferns and wild brush that lay before them, Kahlan saw Cynthia sitting up in Richard's lap, his head buried in her exposed breasts. She cried out as the evil Sister forced her to watch as the twin took Richard into her mouth. Pain rippled and agony writhed and twisted through her as she saw the pleasure on Richard's face.

Behind her, the Sister laughed as Kahlan began to sob, seeing the woman climb back up on the Seeker and lower her hips on him. She tried to look away as Richard began to make love to the woman she knew he thought was her, but she could not. Her eyes were locked on the sight. She wished it was her there, that she had not left him, but had stayed and created that knew memory, but she had not.

She had left to retrieve their pack and now Richard was making love to another one. Albeit, it was a woman who looked exactly like her, but it was another one nonetheless. If Richard had been well and full of mind, she knew he would have known the difference. However, in his current state, she could not trust him to even know that. She wept more for that, than the act itself.

Part of her was thankful when the Sister of the Dark pulled her away as Richard shoved the woman to the ground and crawled up on top of her, as Cynthia spread her legs to accept him in more fully. Kahlan could not bear to watch as Richard reached climax with another woman. It was too painful just seeing him kiss Cynthia.

They went tumbling back into the woods, the Sister of the Dark, small and slender, leading the way. Kahlan could have taken her, but her shock and despair over what was happening behind them had left her numb and unable to respond. And even with her daggers gone, Kahlan knew she could overpower the sorceress, even if for some reason the Sister still seemed to possess some of her powers.

"Do not go thinking you can overpower me, Mother Confessor," the Sister of the Dark snarled back at her. "Without your powers, you are nothing. Unlike you, and all those feeble minded fools who follow you and your husband, I am loyal to the Keeper of the Underworld. So, thanks to him, I still wield the magic he has blessed me with. You… you have nothing, and soon will be submitting yourself to a man much more powerful and in command than the Lord Rahl."

Kahlan shuddered and tried to steel her mind, and put on her confessor's mask. But the threats of being raped by the Emperor of the Imperial Order, and the idea of leaving Richard behind with a false version of herself were too overwhelming. Her mind was reeling with everything that was going on. Why? Oh why did this have to happen to her… to them? She bit her lip and looked down, relegating herself to the role of a slave for now, silently vowing that she would find a way out of this predicament and return to her love… even if he could not remember who she was.


	5. Guilt and Uneasiness

Cynthia let out a sharp cry as the Lord Rahl pushed her from him. She went falling to the ground. From the mad look in his eye, she thought he was going to make fierce love to her. As he stood, his trousers gave way and falling pass his knees. Cynthia spread her legs wider, quietly gritting her teeth to prepare to accept him in more fully. But he did not move. His eyes narrowed and he was looking off into the surrounding woods, as if he could sense something. He quickly pulled his trousers up and grabbed her, pulling her up behind him.

"Stay behind me, Kahlan," he commanded.

His eyes looked strange, glassed over with something she had seen many times before. It was a fury that men sometimes possessed. Cynthia was afraid she had gone too far, that when she had lowered herself on him, he had felt the difference between her and the Mother Confessor.

"Richard…," she clutched to his back, trying to bring him back around to her, to continue the distraction Sister Bree had commanded her to give him.

"Shh!" he hissed, pushing her back. "Get dress, quickly. We should not be distracted like this, Kahlan. Not when danger is about."

The Lord Rahl quickly retrieved their pack and pulled it up onto his shoulders. He found his sword, and returned it to his hip. He watched her as she got dressed, his eyes glued on her heaving chest, as she tried to recover from the brief intimate moments between them. She had accepted him inside her, and had thought he was going to continue with it on the ground, but then something had happened.

Cynthia's eyes roamed the surrounding forest, wondering what Sister Bree was up to. She had thought she had heard the soft cry of a woman, and she was afraid that the Sister of the Dark had been planning on forcing the Mother Confessor to watch. Secretly, Cynthia was thankful the Lord Rahl had put an end to it. Though it had been more pleasurable than she thought, she had not liked the idea of accepting another man freely when it was not her beloved husband, whom Sister Bree promised the Keeper would restore to life for her part in this plot of deception.

She laced her corset back up, as she looked around for her underthings, but could not find them. She shook her head. It did not matter. Soon, she knew, soon she would have to continue this… Sister Bree would expect no less. It was the price she had agreed to pay to get her husband back. Bree had guaranteed that the Keeper would be grateful and reward her with her husband's life. But would he understand what she had to do to get him back? Would he even accept her, knowing she had willingly been with another man, and had even found some pleasure in it?

The Lord Rahl grabbed her arm. "Since I have no memories," he said. "You must direct us."

Cynthia was in the middle of pulling on her jacket, when the Lord Rahl's words made her freeze.  _What!_  She looked up at the Lord Rahl and saw the truth in his eyes. By the Creator, he had no memories. It was truth. If this was true, then her part in this had no meaning. She did not have to seduce him or even submit to him. There was no way he would know the difference. However, he had been very eager and responsive to her ministrations. Perhaps there was a part of him that knew the truth. A small part that was struggling for purchase.

If it had not been for that sudden cry, Cynthia knew that at this moment, she would be feeling him plunging himself deeper into her as they made love. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the sound. It was not hard to recognize it; it was so similar to her own voice. It must have been the real Mother Confessor. Cynthia bit her lower lip and looked up at the Lord Rahl. He gazed back at her with warm brown eyes that held love for the woman he thought she was.

His hand came up and he caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Kahlan," he murmured softly. "I know you wanted to create some new memories, but now is not the time for this… spirits know I want too, but with my lack of memories… I… I cannot trust myself."

Cynthia took a deep breath and nodded, suddenly feeling guilty for trying to deceive him, for trying to take something away from him that should only belong to another. This Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor, who looked so much like her, must be a marvelous woman to have the love of this man.

She was beginning to doubt the things Sister Bree had told her. The Sister of the Dark had claimed that the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor were agents of chaos, and that they stood against the order that the Creator had wanted blessed upon Her children. But if that were true, then why did she feel this guilt seep up into her. She turned her back to him as tears began to pour out.

The Lord Rahl stepped back behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He turned her towards him, soothing and comforting her with words she hardly heard as she buried her head into his chest. She felt dirty and depraved, like she was some wicked thing that did not deserve to live. She was glad he had stopped her, and that he had not released inside her. She never wanted to feel another man ever again. Never.

Slowly, she backed up from his embrace and wiped the tears from her eyes. "We have to get to Aydindril and the First Wizard," Cynthia said, making a decision to betray the Sister of the Dark. She claimed to only serve the Keeper, but she still submitted and served the Emperor of the Imperial Order. She could not be trusted.

Cynthia could not believe she had allowed herself to believe such lies. But for now, she would have to remain the Mother Confessor. She had to get the Lord Rahl back to his friends. They would help him. Once they arrived, Cynthia had no doubt that her deception would be found out. She was resigning herself to that fact. She would seek forgiveness and help where she could. After all, how could the Lord Rahl be evil when he fought against the Imperial Order? The Order had been the ones to condoned their soldiers raping her and murdering her husband.

She bit her lower lip and looked up into the Lord Rahl's warm brown eyes. "To the north," she murmured. "We go to the north."

The Lord Rahl nodded and looked right. Despite his loss of memory, he still had a good sense of direction. He slowly backed away and held her hand tightly. "Don't worry, Kahlan," he said. "We'll find out what is wrong… we'll get my memories back, and then… I promise you. Then we'll be together again."

Cynthia gave a nod. Yes, she would make sure of that. The Lord Rahl would be with the Mother Confessor again. She would see to that, and even risk confession to prove to the true Kahlan Amnell of her regret and sorrow for her deeds. There were many things Cynthia was willing to do, but to destroy the love that was obviously between the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor was not one of them.

Slowly, with their hands locked together, Cynthia and the Lord Rahl began their journey towards Aydindril.

XXX

Nicci squeezed her legs tighter around the horse, willing it to go faster. Three days ago, Cara was unable to sense Richard with her bond to the Lord Rahl, and the two of them became concerned for his welfare, and that of Kahlan. If something had happened to Richard, then Kahlan would surely also be in danger. Nicci had no idea where they were going, but Cara was directing them to the last location she had sensed Richard with the bond.

Her horse was becoming tired and was lathered in sweat. She leaned forward and patted its neck, asking forgiveness for pushing it so hard. She would not have been so relentless if it had not been for the knowledge that they had unleashed the Chimes into the world to save the Seeker. Kahlan had to be the one to do it, for two reasons: One, because she loved Richard, and secondly, because Richard loved her back. Their love was powerful enough to break the seal that held the Chimes in their prison. Nicci knew it was dangerous, but it was the only way to save Richard from the plague.

In front of her, Cara pulled her horse to a halt, holding up a hand. Nicci followed suit and slowed her horse, taking a deep breath of the cool winter air. She did not like leaving Aydindril, but it had been necessary. Zedd and Nathan were still there, also with the D'Haran army and the rest of the Mord'Sith. Nicci had insisted they stay behind. She and Cara could handle this. There was no need in empting the entire city of all of its defenses, not with the Imperial Order on the move.

"What is it?" she asked, as Cara dismounted.

The Mord'Sith glanced at her with fierce eyes, telling her to remain quiet. Nicci sighed, and slipped off her horse, wishing she had use of her powers. She had known that she would be giving them up when she had given Kahlan the book and instructed her to read the words, but it had happened sooner than she had expected. Though she was glad that the Seeker and Confessor had had enough time to finally consummate their love. No doubt, they had consummated it many times during their honeymoon.

"Don't you hear that?" Cara's question interrupted her thoughts.

Nicci knitted her eyebrows together and focused her attention on listening to the silence around them. She could not hear anything that would explain Cara's sudden uneasiness. The Mord'Sith could no longer sense the Lord Rahl, but she had a keen ability to sense things that others could not. Perhaps it was a bit of the Seeker that had rubbed off on Cara when she had traveled with Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd in search of the Stone of Tears.

Then she heard it. It was the noise of two people walking through the woods, unconcerned of being overheard. Cara immediately whipped out her agiels then froze, frowning. They no longer worked, and the worried etched on her face was painfully obvious. Nicci had tried to explain that she did not believe Richard was dead. Before they left, Nicci and Zedd, with Nathan's help, had tried to explain it to the Mord'Sith, but Cara would not listen, especially when the Lord Rahl was in any potential danger.

Cara reluctantly put her agiels back in their holders and removed a short sword she had borrowed from Captain Benjamin Meiffert. Nicci smiled, knowing the truth behind the relationship between the D'Haran captain and the Mord'Sith, but Cara would not speak of it. It was almost as if the Mord'Sith was embarrassed to have developed feelings for another person.

"Someone's coming," she snapped back at Nicci.

Nicci gave a nod and stepped back, thankful to have control of her subtractive magic, if not her additive magic. Her black lightning would still work, it just took more energy to call if forth. This was a result of the Chimes, as well. Since they had been born of Underworld magic by the wizards of old, they only consumed and suppressed additive magic. As a war wizard, Richard would still be able to wield some of his magic, but he did not know how to do it. Yet Kahlan, the Mother Confessor was a different story.

Thanks to her confessor powers, Kahlan Amnell possessed both additive and subtractive magic, but to use that power, she needed both forms of magic. With one gone, the other would not work. So, for all intensive purposes, the Mother Confessor was now as ordinary as any other woman.

Nicci squinted as they caught sight of a red robe. She took a quick breath, preparing herself. Cara tensed, and arched her shoulders, holding the short sword up, ready to attack or defend.

A voice came drifting across the wind and Nicci froze, recognizing it. It had been a long time since she had heard that voice. And now that she heard it, she began to fear that Cara's assertions that something had happened to the Lord Rahl might, indeed, be true.

The figures turned a corner and Nicci saw the long brown hair and green eyes of a woman she had thought dead: Sister Bree. Her small hand was clutching a chain, which ran like a leash behind her, connected to a collar that was wrapped around the neck of an exquisite creature with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

"NICCI!" Kahlan cried.

Immediately Cara was in action, diving forward and slicing the chain in two. Nicci sailed forward and began flinging black lightning at Sister Bree. Her former comrade in service of the Keeper held up her hands and blocked the strikes, hissing and snarling in anger. She jumped and pirouetted around, her red robes dancing with her movements.

Nicci focused all her attention on the Sister of the Dark, allowing the Mord'Sith to see to the Mother Confessor. Bree raised her hand and sent a wind spell towards them, pushing them back. She jumped up on a rock and glared down at them, as they recovered.

"You may have won this round, but I shall win the war!" she cried, laughing maliciously, as she bounded down off the rock and flung herself into the forest, disappearing before Nicci could send any black lightning at her, only destroying the rock where the Sister of the Dark had stood.

Taking a deep breath to recover from the exertion of having to release so much of her magic, Nicci turned to look upon the Mother Confessor. Cara was helping to remove the collar, when Nicci approached.

"Kahlan, are you all right?" she asked.

Kahlan closed her eyes and sighed when the collar was removed, her hand coming up and rubbing her chafed neck. "Yes…," she murmured and looked down. "But… spirits, Richard's lost his memory. And… and…" the confessor's words trailed off. Nicci reached over and pulled Kahlan into a comforting hug. She tried her best to calm the weeping confessor, but something had happened that greatly upset her.

Kahlan pushed back and rubbed her eyes, wiping away her tears. "We have to go back," she said, turning in the direction she had come with Sister Bree. "Richard is in danger."

Cara nodded and went back to retrieve their horses. Nicci hung back, sensing something else had happened, more than Richard being in trouble. Kahlan seemed near grief, as if she had witnessed something utterly horrible. The sorceress did not know what it was, but she vowed she would find out and do whatever was in her power to see to it that Kahlan was all right.

The Mord'Sith returned with the horses, and they helped Kahlan up onto one. Nicci and Cara shared the other horse. Before they had settled themselves, Kahlan let out a cry and kicked her mount, sending the animal rushing head long into the forest. Cara looked over her shoulder at Nicci, as the sorceress gripped the Mord'Sith's middle.

"Quickly, go on," Nicci instructed. "We don't want to lose her."

Cara nodded and turned around, giving their own mount a good kick that got the horse whinnying and galloping off after the distressed Mother Confessor. Nicci was beginning to fear the worse. If something had happened to Richard, she did not know what she would do. She loved him fiercely and would do anything for him. Anything. But if something had happened to him, something that left Kahlan alone and vulnerable in this world, the sorceress was determined to stand by the confessor's side until the Order was eliminated and she was safe. That was the least Nicci could do for Richard.


	6. A Night Full Of Worry

Four days had past since Kahlan had tried to make love to him, and he felt sorry for going so far only to pull back, but he felt firm in his belief that to fully trust himself, he had to have his memories back. Thankfully, Kahlan had not pushed him any further, accepting simply sleeping in his arms at night. But even that seemed strained and forced. Something had happened to her when she left to retrieve their pack. It was not just the sudden need she had to make love, but also her mood, when he stopped her and pushed her away when he had heard a sudden noise from the woods that sounded so familiar and so right.

Something was wrong.

He no longer felt that intense passion and love that had radiated off her when he had first woke and they had shared that fierce kiss in the rain. He missed that, but he was willing to hold off on such things until he had his memory back. Then he would have things to remember that would allow him to please her in many more ways. And he wanted to please her, more than anything. He had a gut feeling that Kahlan was his one true love. That they were meant for each other. It was almost as if they had been through many things together, things that his mind could not remember, but his body could.

As the sun began to descend, they located a protected spot to make camp. While Kahlan worked on the fire, Richard took some time to go through their pack, seeing if they had anything that could explain what had happened to him. Inside he found some small food bits and spare clothing. Underneath it all, folded up and covered in some linens was a beautiful blue dress. He gazed upon it and imagined Kahlan wearing it. He remembered her telling him that this had been her wedding dress. But that had been before she left to retrieve their pack. Since then she had been quiet on the subject of their time before.

He looked up and watched as she worked around the small fire, stacking twigs and leaves into a nice pile. She picked up two small stones and began striking them together, causing sparks to jump out. Within moments flames sprung to life and Kahlan quickly added more twigs to the growing fire. Eventually they had a nice fire, and Richard wished they had more than just the small bits of dried meat and cheese to eat. He scooted over and crouched down behind her. Reaching out he handed her the majority of what they had.

Kahlan jumped, apparently startled. She gave him a weak smile and accepted his offering. "Thank you, Richard," she muttered softly, sitting back from the fire, and holding out her hands, warming them.

He narrowed his eyes and sat down beside her. There was something very different about her. She no longer said, "my Richard." And when she would say his name, there was no love in it. Had he been wrong, was this woman not his wife. Was he just allowing his attraction to her to deceive him?

"We should be close to Aydindril," she said as she ate her food. She nibbled at it delicately and looked away from him. It almost seemed like she had difficulty even looking at him. She rarely talked, and when she did it was only to say what was needed.

Richard was angry at his loss of memories. He thought that it might be his fault that Kahlan was so distant. That he had done something to earn this curse, and that she blamed him for it. He eased down next to her and placed an arm around her shoulder. She tensed at his touch, but immediately suppressed it and leaned into him.

"Kahlan, please, tell me what is wrong," he pleaded. "Why won't you talk to me… why won't you kiss me again? I thought you loved me? You said we married for love, not duty."

Kahlan turned her head and looked at him with her bright blue eyes. Her hand came up and she brushed a strand of dark hair back behind her ear. "It's complicated, Richard," she responded. She swallowed and averted her eyes. "More complicated than I care to go into at the moment."

He leaned back, feeling confused. "How can our marriage be complicated?"

She looked at him like she was afraid to answer. Her lips were trembling, looking oh so inviting. He had to kiss her... he just had too. If he could do no more than that, he would simply kiss her. Before she could make any protest, Richard grabbed her face in his hands and captured her lips with his. He gently kissed her, wanting to reassure her that despite his loss of memory he would stand by and love her as he had vowed he would when he placed the ring on her finger.

Kahlan did not push back, not immediately, but after a moment she gently pushed him away and sat back, hugging her knees to herself. "I'm sorry, Richard," she said, looking away. "But I… I shouldn't have done…," she looked away, as if she was ashamed, "what I did four days ago. I'm sorry. It was wrong, and it should never have happened. Thank the Creator you put a stop to it until we went any further."

Richard furrowed his brow, truly vexed over the two Kahlans he had seen: The one he had awoken to and the one who had returned from retrieving their pack. He believed he liked the first Kahlan better. He wished it had been her that had returned and began making love to him. He was sure, that, without a doubt, that Kahlan was more like the Kahlan he had fallen in love with. As for this Kahlan, he was unsure. And he was beginning to question the circumstances of their marriage.

"Why?" he asked her, believing he deserved an answer.

Her eyes became watery and she looked away. "I promise, I will tell you… I will, but just not now," Kahlan looked back up, and he reached out to brush her tears away. She closed her eyes. "When we reach Aydindril, I will tell you… everything."

Richard gave a nod, conceding to her plea. No matter how she really felt about him, he could not help but care about her.

"We should sleep," Kahlan said, sniffling, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Will you at least hold me?"

"Of course," Richard murmured, taking her into his arms as they laid down on the ground before the fire.

XXX

"All right, I'll admit it," grumbled Cara. "I miss the wizard's cooking."

Kahlan looked up, trying her best to be positive and suppress her grief. It was harder than she thought it would be. Putting on her confessor's face was tiring, more so than it had ever been. She had been both startled and relieved when Nicci and Cara had showed up and driven off the Sister of the Dark, but they had yet to find Richard. Cara was doing her best to use what Richard had taught her about tracking to find him, but it was difficult with the winter waether. It had not rain like it had the day she had been taken away from her love, but it was bitterly cold.

"Well, at least we have you and your hunting skills, Cara," Kahlan replied.

Nicci nodded her head, pulling her cloak tighter. "Yes," the sorceress replied. "Without you, we would surely starve."

Cara smirked, nodding her head appreciatively, and went back to rotating the rabbit on the spit. Kahlan leaned back and hugged her knees, as she sat back against the tree trunk, watching as the Mord'Sith cooked. She missed Richard, not just the warmth of his body next to hers, but him. His presence. His humor. His laugh... and his constant curiosity. Nicci seemed to notice her mood, because the sorceress scooted closer.

"What's the matter, Kahlan?" she asked. "You have yet to tell us why Richard is in danger."

Kahlan looked up and bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. She was afraid to speak aloud what she had seen, as if admitting to seeing it would make it even truer. It had been hard seeing it, knowing that Richard did not know it was not her. She took a deep breath and filled her lungs with the cool winter air. Narrowing her eyes, trying to suppress the tears that were threatening to manifest, she opened her mouth to answer.

"He has lost his memories," Kahlan answered. "I don't know how or why, but it happened. He… he…," she looked away closing her eyes, holding back the tears. "He doesn't remember me or our wedding."

Nicci lowered her brow sympathetically and placed a hand on Kahlan's arm, trying to give her some comfort.

"And… that Sister of the Dark…," Kahlan gulped, not sure if she could even say it. "She… she had someone with her… a woman… who looked exactly like me."

Cara stopped what she was doing and looked up. "Exactly like you?" she asked, gesturing with her red gloved hand, her expression showing disbelief.

"Yes," Kahlan said, emphasizing her words. "Exactly. In everyway."

Nicci narrowed her eyes. "Everyway?"

Kahlan knitted her eyebrows and clenched her teeth, trying to hold back the tears over what had happened. "Well, enough that Richard believed she was me when he made love to her!" Her eyes went wide when she realized she had practically shouted it. Her cheeks went pink and she looked away from her friends, covering her embarrassed and ashamed state with her dark hair.

"No," Cara's voice was flat and unemotional. "I cannot believe he would do that."

Kahlan sucked in a breath and almost glared at her friend. "How can he know it's not me?" she questioned. "Spirits, when he told me about his memory loss I should have stayed with him, but no… I had to go off and retrieve our pack alone. He offered to come with me, but I told him to stay." She continued to curse herself for the decisions she had made after Richard had woken and declared to have no memory.

"How do you know he made love to this woman?" Nicci asked, the sorceress trying to comfort her with a hand on her shoulder.

Kahlan shivered as she remembered what she had seen. "I saw the woman… in his lap, her shirt off, and his face in her breasts," she closed her eyes, trying to shear the images from her mind. "Then, that Sister of the Dark pulled me away, just as Richard pushed the woman to the ground and lowered his trousers. I saw her open her legs for him and he… oh…" Kahlan lost control of her voice, as it turned into a low whimper of despair at what she had seen.

Never, in her entire life, had Kahlan expected to feel this. Even though Richard thought he was with her, Kahlan felt betrayed. As if he had willingly sought comfort in the touch of another woman. If only she had stayed with him, or agreed with him and allowed him to come with her to retrieve the pack, Richard might have been able to fight off the Sister of the Dark and then they would not be in this predicament. And she would still be with her Richard.

"Well, whatever it is that has happened," Nicci said, trying to gloss over it, thankfully. "We will find Richard."

"Nicci," Kahlan looked up, wiping her cheeks as tears began to burst forth. "Do you think these Chimes are responsible for his memory loss?"

The sorceress opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. She looked up and lowered her perfect eyebrows in thought. "Perhaps, I'm not sure," she replied. "The Chimes were created mainly to destroy magic—"

"What!" Kahlan sat up, having what she had feared be confirmed by her friend.

Cara looked up, startled, but soon returned to the rabbit, allowing the others to speak. Nicci folded her arms across her breasts and lowered her eyes. "Yes, it is true," she said. "That is why you were unable to confess Sister Bree."

"But… I saw you use your magic… and this Sister Bree as well," Kahlan objected.

"That's because we wield subtractive magic," Nicci said, licking her lips nervously. "The Chimes only attack additive magic. Subtractive magic is the magic of the Underworld, where the Chimes are from. So they do not attack it. Everyone with additive magic will become powerless."

"What about Richard, he has both sides of the gift?" Kahlan asked, knowing she sounded desperate.

"He'll still be able to wield his subtractive magic," Nicci said with a nod. "That is, if he even knew how to use it in the first place."

Kahlan sat back down, hugging her knees, blinking. "We have to get to him soon, before anything else happens," she said firmly. She did not say it aloud, but she wanted to get to him more because of the woman, than because of the Chimes.

XXX

Bree grumbled and kicked at the brush beneath her feet. Her plan had backfired when the Mother Confessor's nosy friends had showed up. She should have known that the Mord'Sith would become fretful when she lost the sense of the bond to the Lord Rahl, yet she had not expected to see Sister Nicci, the traitor. Her former Sister had betrayed the Keeper and now served the Seeker. And with Nicci's help, she had no doubt the Mother Confessor would return to her love and prevent Cynthia from fulfilling her role in their schemes.

But Bree did not trust Cynthia. The woman had began to question their mission when she saw how much the Lord Rahl loved the Mother Confessor, though she had still done her duty and spread her legs for the Seeker. Bree took much joy in seeing the Mother Confessor's reaction to that. She hoped that having witnessed her love with another Kahlan Amnell would see the Seeker for what he really was. A monster destined to betray her.

Confessors could never find love. That was one of the many things Bree had always believed, and why it was so important to her to destroy Richard and Kahlan's relationship. She hoped that during his time with Cynthia the Seeker had made her with child. A cruel smile twisted onto her face. That would definitely cause a schism in his relationship with the Mother Confessor. It would be delicious to watch it unfold. That was why she was making her way back to her wayward pupil. She had to observe Cynthia's interactions with the Lord Rahl and know for sure if her plan was working.

By her best estimation, she was not far. She would have to stop soon, it was getting dark, but she could walk for an hour or two more. But her thoughts kept going back to Nicci. Her former Sister would no doubt understand what was happening with the loss of magic. The Chimes being unleashed was a minor victory for the Keeper, but it hindered Sister Bree's own progress. She would have to make do with just her subtractive magic, which was difficult, because it made healing herself impossible.

She was not going to return to the Emperor. If she went back to him, he would take her in such vile ways she would bleed for weeks, and that was not something she was willing to endure anymore. It was her turn now. Bree would do things her way, and see to it that the Keeper triumphed. All she needed to do was keep the Seeker oblivious to the Chimes, and Cynthia was the way to do it. She narrowed her eyes.

"That girl better be sleeping with the Lord Rahl between her legs," she huffed to herself as she moved through the dense foliage.

A low howl from a wolf danced through the air, and she smiled, knowing that it was not a wolf, but a sign that something else was at work. Tugging her cloak tighter around her slender frame, Bree trudged deeper into the woods in the dark of the night, her mind set and determined on her mission of evil.


	7. Flight

Cynthia woke up with Richard's arms around her. Just the feeling of love she felt emanating from him made her feel guilty for being the one in his arms instead of the real woman he loved. Slowly, she tried to ease out of his hold, but his grip around her waist tightened, and he gently began to nuzzle her neck, murmuring softly. She could not hear what he said, but she had a feeling it was a certain name.

She closed her eyes, suppressing the tears of guilt that were threatening to unleash themselves. She had never felt this way before. Never, in her entire life, had she felt guilt or shame. Her life had been simple before the Order had come to tear it all down. And it had been far happier.

Gently, she gripped his hands, and pulled them off her, easing up out of his hold, making sure not to wake him. She slowly sat in a crouch and gazed down upon his handsome features. Her heart fluttered a bit as she watched him breathe, hearing him murmuring a name softly in his sleep. But the name was not hers. It was the name of the Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell, which touched his lips when he murmured.

Cynthia closed her eyes, chiding herself for even allowing herself to believe that this man could love her. She was just a mirror image of the woman he really loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

She made her way around the campfire and reached for the pack. Before they ate, she had noticed the Lord Rahl look through it. She wanted to see what had intrigued him so. All she saw was food bits and a change of clothes. Underneath all of it, wrapped in some linen, was a beautiful blue dress. Cynthia looked back up at the Lord Rahl, watching as his chest rose and fell as he breathed. With great care, she reached into the pack and pulled the dress out, unfolding and holding it to her.

It was gorgeous, quite breathtaking really. She stood and draped it over her, taking in how it would look if she wore it. Cynthia loved the soft velvety feel of the fabric. She had never felt such softness before. It felt smooth and delicate in her hands. Holding it up to her chest, she flattened the folds over her stomach and looked down at herself. By the Creator, she looked beautiful.

Then it hit her. This must be the Mother Confessor's dress. She pulled it away and folded it back up, covering it in the linen wrappings and placing it back in the bottom of the pack. After replacing all the other supplies, she closed the flap and turned back to the Lord Rahl.

It was wrong for her to even touch the belongings of the Mother Confessor. Those items were precious to her and her alone. She looked down at her hand, seeing the ring. The Lord Rahl had placed this on Kahlan Amnell's finger during their wedding. Now Cynthia wore it and paraded around as if she was his wife.

Guilt swelled up from her core and she felt like crying. She could not believe she had tried to make the Lord Rahl betray his vows of love and fidelity to the Mother Confessor. She had tried to seduce him, and had been extremely close to having him take her and release his seed, but he had pushed back, hearing the cry of his beloved, yet not fully registering it. Cynthia took a deep breath and pulled the ring from her finger. She did not deserve to have it.

Tiptoeing across the camp, she knelt down beside the Lord Rahl and wiped a tear that had manifested itself on her right cheek. Anguish at what she had done filled her heart and she openly wept as she placed the ring down on the ground beside him. She leaned down and brushed the hair from his brow. By the Creator, he was so handsome! She had not expected that. In a way, he reminded her of her long dead husband. They both had warm brown eyes and kind smiles.

"Forgive me," she whispered, then leaned down and gently kissed his lips. As she backed away, the Lord Rahl stirred and murmured Kahlan's name. "You'll find her… I know you will. Sorry."

Hugging herself tightly, Cynthia rubbed her arms and sighed, sniffling as she thought of what to do. They were close to Aydindril, and she knew that D'Haran patrols must be close by. She could leave him here with no worry that he would be picked up by his people. She had no right to go with him. She was not his wife, just someone pretending to be.

Slowly, she drifted back away from their camp and slipped into the forest, softly sobbing as she went. All Cynthia wanted to do was crawl into some hole and die.

XXX

Nicci watched as the sun rose above the horizon. She and Cara had taken turns on watch, deciding that Kahlan needed more rest with what had happened. She was unsure what it was that Kahlan had really seen. Nicci found it hard to believe that even without his memory, Richard would betray Kahlan. The Seeker and the Mother Confessor were linked by their souls. Nothing, she believed, absolutely nothing could separate them or keep them apart.

The sorceress turned and looked to her right, as the blanket covering the Mother Confessor moved, as Kahlan sat up. Her long dark hair cascaded down, framing her pale face. Her brilliant blue eyes looked tired and sad, and her eyes were rimmed red with tears. Nicci stood up and slowly strolled over to her. Kneeling down on one knee, the sorceress placed a hand on Kahlan's shoulder.

"Sleep did not come?" she asked.

Kahlan hugged herself with her arms and looked down, shaking her head. "I couldn't," the confessor asserted. "Not with the knowledge that Richard was alone with that woman… Spirits know what they might have done last night to keep warm!" Kahlan burst into tears.

Nicci sat down beside the Mother Confessor and put her arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She held the confessor to her breast, as a mother would with a child. Kahlan buried herself in Nicci's embrace and sobbed loudly. Cara stirred and sat up, narrowing her eyes, but said nothing, seeing how upset the Mother Confessor was. The Mord'Sith stood and began preparing breakfast.

Kahlan pulled back and wiped her cheeks with her hands. "I'm sorry for being so emotional," she gulped in some air. "I… I've just never had someone like Richard before. He… He…"

"He is your husband," Nicci said. "And he loves you. Even if he does not know that now, I believe, that deep down in his heart, he still loves you."

Kahlan sniffled and gave a nod. A small smile formed across her lips. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she said. "The way he looked at me still held some of that love. It was hidden beneath the surface, but I could still see some of it there."

Nicci gave a nod. "Then there is still a part of him who knows the difference."

"Then how could he make love to that woman!" Kahlan demanded. "If it's true, what you say, and that there is some small part of him that remembers me… ME!... then how can he do that? How could he betray me?"

"Look, Kahlan," Nicci said, being firm. "I don't mean to be so blunt, but there are certain things that… well, that we cannot control."

Kahlan blinked. "Are you saying that Richard cannot control his sexual urges? Because he seemed perfectly in control before we knew we could be together. He… he learned to suffer in silence." She paused for a moment and looked towards the fire Cara had restarted. "As did I."

She looked back up. "In a way, it was harder for me, because I knew what could have happened. I was the one who had never felt another's touch, yet wanted desperately too. Spirits," Kahlan groaned. "Nicci, I want him. I want him back. He's mine… he's mine!"

Nicci wrapped her arms around the wailing confessor. "Yes, I know. And we'll get him back. I swear to you. I will not rest until you two are reunited."

"As do I," Cara said firmly with a nod. "We will get the Lord Rahl back." She squatted down beside them and handed out a piece of bread. "Now eat."

XXX

Richard woke with a start to find no warm body next to his. Fear immediately assaulted his senses. His eyes grew wide as he jumped up, tossing the blanket off.

"KAHLAN!" he cried, feeling a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her in danger. He knew that all his memories had been wiped, taken from him, but he had his memories of the past five days. Kahlan was the only person he knew, the only one who seemed to care for him.

He looked around frantically, screaming her name at the top of his voice until his lungs hurt with the exertion of it. His eyes darted around their small camp. There… lying on the ground beside their bedroll was her ring. He crouched down and picked it up in a trembling hand.

Richard closed his eyes, trying not to imagine the worse. He gripped it tightly in his hand, and then placed it in his breast pocket. As the sun rose, his eyes scanned the ground. Then he noticed it. It was not clear at first, but as the light began to glow in the horizon, he could see the faint traces of footprints in the dirt. He had a feeling that he had been good at this, tracking. He knelt down and ran his fingertips along the edges of the indentation in the ground.

"Kahlan?" he muttered softly.

Narrowing his eyes as he made his decision, he returned to the camp and quickly packed things up. He gripped the scabbard and attached it to his belt. Richard furrowed his brow, angry and afraid at the same time. Had she left on her own accord, or had she been taken? These thoughts raged through his mind, as he stuffed the blanket into the pack.

Standing up, and hefting the pack onto his shoulder, Richard went running into the forest, his eyes constantly searching the ground for traces of the woman who was his wife and very important to him.

XXX

Bree was angry. She had not found them. Despite all her planning and scheming, things appeared not to be going her way. She had spent many months formulating this plan, and had been blest with the discovery of the girl Cynthia. But now, it appeared that her careful planning were all for not. Cynthia had not followed her instructions and she had not found the Lord Rahl and the woman in the desired location.

She had selected it previously, and had specifically told Cynthia to bring the Lord Rahl here. It was the place where she had wished to have the Lord Rahl bend to their will and plant his seed in Cynthia. She had set things up using what had been left of her additive magic to enhance the probability of conception.

With the Lord Rahl's seed implanted in Cynthia, the Imperial Order would have access to the blood of a war wizard through a vessel they could control from birth. They would no longer have need of the Lord Rahl, and they could then kill him. However, for some odd reason, the Emperor had wanted him alive. As if he wanted to torment the Seeker with the knowledge that he, the Emperor, would be raping the Mother Confessor.

However, that plan had backfired as well. She no longer had the Mother Confessor and now it appeared she no longer had the Seeker. Bree grumbled and folded her arms across her chest. She was going to need to make new plans, and she would have to take into account the Chimes. She had previously ignored them, not believing that the Lord Rahl and his friends would have been foolish enough to free them, but apparently they had.

She shook her head, marveling at out such foolish people were capable of fighting off the advance of the Order and stopping the Keeper from his victory over the world of life. The only part of the Keeper's plan that she was glad had failed was his ploy with Darken Rahl. The villain did not deserve an extra chance to prove himself.

Bree was pleased when she had learned that Rahl had failed and died in his attempt to kill the Mother Confessor while bedding her. From what she had learned, he had never even gotten the chance. The Mord'Sith, the loyal dogs that they were, sent him to Nicci, while the Seeker got to take the Mother Confessor's maidenhood in secret, giving him access to the Temple of the Winds.

As she stepped out into the clearing, Bree glanced down at the blanket she had engendered her magic into. She leaned down and felt it, reaching out with her waning Han. She sighed. Her plan would not have worked, even if Cynthia had followed instructions. The magic had already been sapped from it. Her own powers were growing weaker by the day.

Suddenly a sharp laughter echoed through the clearing. Bree glanced up, her brow furrowing in concern. The wind rustled around, causing the fallen leaves to dance in the air. She glared at the sight, believing she was seeing something that looked like a face peering at her.

The laughter was joined by two others and then it stopped, and the winds picked up and died just as quickly. Bree shuddered and clutched her cloak tighter to herself.

"I have bigger problems then finding my errant ward," she murmured to herself as her green eyes scanned the horizon. The Chimes were about, and there was no telling to what mischief they were up too. They obeyed no one, and though their effect would ultimately aid in the Keeper's goal, even He could not control them.

Standing up, Bree looked around, deciding that, for the moment, it would be better to rejoin the Emperor. She would, no doubt, take a beating and be punished with some vile sexual acts, but she would rather face that than the Chimes. If what she had learned at the Palace of the Prophets was true, if you were killed by the Chimes, your soul would be forever lost in a state of limbo. And she did not want that. She wanted to be able to go to her eternal father, the Keeper, when she died and not be stuck in a purgatory of lost dreams.

Bree tucked her cloak around her slender frame and dodged back into the forest, seeking to escape from the reach of the Chimes of Death.

XXX

Cynthia dashed through the brush, pushing branches out of the way. Her brow was sweaty and her hair was matted, sticking to her moist skin. Her warm breath was issuing out in a soft stream, trailing behind her as she rushed through the forest. She stumbled, catching her foot on a root, and tripped into a clearing, sending a murder of crows scattering and cawing into the air. Cynthia let out a cry as she raised her hands in front of her to break her fall.

She closed her eyes and prepared to hit the ground, but then something caught her. Rough hands grabbed her arms and pulled her up. Cynthia let out a cry when her eyes caught sight of the brutish men that surrounded her. They were not D'Harans… they were men of the Imperial Order. And by the look of them, they were scouts.

"Well, well, well… look what we got here," one said, his mouth turning into a cruel grin as his comrades held her up for him to see. He was obviously the one in charge. Cynthia shivered as his dark eyes gleamed with sick lust as he openly leered at her breasts.

Her chest heaved up and down as she took in quick breaths to recover from her long run. If she had truly been the Mother Confessor, she probably would have been able to confess one of these men to defend her, but unfortunately she was not. It was all just a fiction to seduce a man who she had left behind.

One of the men holding her began groping her breasts, running his filthy fingers across her moist flesh. The other's hand dropped down to her waist and slipped between the flaps in her skirt. She shuddered as his cold hand touched her warmed thigh and drifted towards the center of her legs.

He smirked when he touched her. "We're in luck," he chortled. "She's got no underthings."

The men laughed and cheered, and they pushed her towards the ground. Cynthia closed her eyes, knowing what was to come. She'd been through this before, when her husband had been killed and she had been taken by the Order. It had not been the last time that men had forced themselves on her. She had been sent to the tents when she was taken to the army camp, and then there was the wizard Neville.

"Wait!" the leader snarled, pulling his men off her.

The man on top of her had not wanted to be taken away from his prize, and his grip on the top of her bodice was tight. When he was pulled away, the fabric ripped, causing her breasts to come free. The men hooted with delight at the sight of her exposed flesh and hands descended upon her.

"I said stop!" growled the leader, pulling out his sword and stabbing one of the men, severing his arm and killing him with a quick thrust in the gut. That got their attention and they moved away, snarling and sneering in anger. "Pull her up."

The men grabbed her arms and hauled her up to her feet. The leader stared at her, his dark eyes scrutinizing her face. His eyes drifted down to follow the flow of her hair, taking in its length.

"By the Creator, she's the Mother Confessor!" he said, gaping. "We cannot touch her."

"Why?" one of the men snarled.

"She's a pretty little whore!" hooted another.

"Looks to be tight, too!" sneered a third.

"We'll break her in until she no longer has any fight in her," the first finished, grabbing at her breast.

The leader scowled and pulled the man's hand away from her exposed flesh. "She is for the Emperor," he growled. "You know how he likes the ones that squirm." Some of the men nodded, while others grumbled and looked around at each other.

"Why does it matter? She is no virgin," the man who had been on top of her said. "Surely the Lord Rahl has already taken her maidenhood. The Emperor will have no way of knowing that we've had our way with her. Besides, the Emperor's witch can tighten her cunt if need be."

"Silence fool!" snarled the leader. "The Emperor will know. He may even be in our minds right now! We dare not risk his wrath."

The man scowled. "I don't care," he grabbed Cynthia, wrenching her from the others, and flinging her around to ram her against a tree trunk, pressing her face against it. "I've been without the wetness of a woman's flesh for too long. I will have my prize."

The others seemed to agree with him, and they formed a shield, preventing their commander, who was fuming with rage, from advancing. "You dare defy your commander!"

"Commander? What commander?" one of the others said as he whipped out an axe and cleaved the leader's head in two. The body wobbled for a moment before collapsing. Blood splattered across the clearing and the men laughed.

Cynthia cried as she felt the man pressing himself closer to her. He gripped her skirt and pushed it up. He spat on his fingers, wetting them, before sliding them between her legs, rubbing her femininity. He pressed his lips to her neck and nibbled and licked at her.

"What? No fight, Mother Confessor?" he teased. "You just going to take it?" He laughed and turned back to his friends. "The Lord Rahl must not be satisfying enough for her!"

The others all laughed. Then they began hooting and fighting over who was going to have her next. The man holding her reached down, and unbuckled his trousers. "Let's see how you like this, Mother Confessor," he laughed cruelly. Cynthia closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the violation to come.

Then a sharp sound of steel engulfed the air. It resounded throughout the clearing, followed by screams and grunts, as the men tried to defend themselves against the unseen attacker. However, they were not strong enough for this foe. Cynthia let out a sharp breath as the man's grip around her loosened. He backed away from her and she collapsed onto the ground, clutching her torn blouse to herself, trying to cover herself.

She looked up, as a flash of steel sliced through the man. Blood when flying and the man cried out, collapsing to his knees. A blade of glowing white steel thrust through the man's back and he gasped his last breath. The blade withdrew from him and he fell down dead. Cynthia closed her eyes and cried. Though she had seen worse under the boot of the Order in her home village, it was always difficult to see such things. She had heard that some people could become numb to violence, but she never understood how. It was all so horrible.

Cynthia heard the sheathing of a sword, and then strong arms were upon her, holding on to her in a tight embrace. His voice came, soothing and scared. She blinked and looked up to be met with warm brown eyes filled with terror and fright.

"Oh, Kahlan… thank the Spirits I found you," he nearly sobbed, helping her up. Before she could respond, he gripped her face in his hands and gave her a fierce passionate kiss.

Cynthia closed her eyes, relishing the feel of a kiss that had meaning to it, and was not something merely done for the pleasure of another. She allowed herself to ease into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She had never felt this kind of kiss since her husband had been taken from her by the Order. But then, as the kissed continued, the feelings of guilt and shame swelled back up inside her, and she pushed him back, blinking as tears sprung anew.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, wiping away her tears. "Why Kahlan? I… I thought you loved me. That you were my wife and would stay by my side, like you said you would."

Cynthia gulped, wondering if he was repeating the things that the real Kahlan had told him. A new guilt pierced her heart at the thought of abandoning this man. She had played party to the theft of his wife, and now she was stealing something else he needed. Despite the fact he was obviously a strong man, it seemed that some of his strength derived from this woman he loved, this Kahlan Amnell. How could she now steal that from him, when she had already helped steal the woman herself?

"Richard… I'm… I… I'm sorry," she murmured, rubbing her hands across his chest, feeling her heart pound fiercely in her chest in a way that it had only done once before; when she was with her husband.  _Don't_ , she told herself.  _Don't fall in love with this man. He is not yours. He is another's. You just happen to look like her_. But it was hard. He was so handsome and so very kind and gentle.

"Here," Richard said, reaching inside his breast pocket and bringing out the ring. "Let me put it back where it belongs."

Cynthia's breath caught. It did not belong to her, yet here he was placing it on her finger. She closed her eyes, suppressing the tears of grief at her deception, knowing that now was not the time to reveal it. She needed to continue this charade for a little longer. Just long enough to get him back to his friends. Then… then they could help him.

Noticing her torn top, he spun the pack around and pulled out one of the spare clothes. She tried to protest, knowing that the blouse was the Mother Confessor's, but as far as he was concerned, she, Cynthia, was the Mother Confessor. Eventually, she relented and allowed him to replace her destroyed top.

After she was changed, she grabbed his hand and pulled him close. "Richard… I'm sorry, I truly am," she murmured softly.

His hand came up and caressed her cheek. "Don't you ever leave me again, Kahlan," he replied softly, his breath was warm against her cheek. "With my memories gone, you are the only one I believe I can trust."

The stab of guilt hit her again. If only he knew the truth, he would not be saying such things. She gave a nod and gestured with her head towards the west—the opposite direction she had been going. "Aydindril is in that direction, little more than a league or two."

He gripped her hand tightly. "Then we should go quickly," he said. "You should be safe there, yes? And I want you safe, Kahlan."

Without any protests, Cynthia followed him as they went back into the forest, leaving behind the bloody mess of the deceased Imperial Order scouts.


	8. Revelations and Truths

Kahlan doubled over, cringing as she felt a strong pull in her stomach. She clutched her midsection and her mouth flung open as she retched her breakfast out onto the ground. Nicci and Cara stopped, and turned around, looking concerned. The sorceress rushed to her side, and held Kahlan's hair up, away from her face. Backing up, she gave a thankful nod to Nicci. But then, Kahlan shuddered as the feeling hit her again, and she doubled over to purge her stomach once again. The last of her breakfast came surging out. The smell was heavily acidic.

She leaned back and turned away from the mess on the ground, sitting down, facing the other way. With a hand resting up above her stomach, Kahlan began to take deep breaths to calm the sudden dizziness she was feeling. Nicci placed a hand on her shoulder, crouching down beside her.

"Are you all right, Kahlan?" she asked, worry etched on her perfect features.

Kahlan inhaled and gave a slight nod as the dizziness began to pass. "Yes, I… I'm fine," she replied, closing her eyes and letting out a quick breath.

Nicci looked up at Cara. The Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She went back to her horse and went through her saddle pack. Cara fiddled around for a moment, then returned with a canteen. She came back and squatted down next to them, popping the stopper and holding it out for Kahlan.

"Here… drink!" she said, practically giving an order to the Mother Confessor. When Kahlan looked at her for a moment, Cara raised her eyebrows. "It's just water."

Kahlan accepted it and took a long draft of the water. She drank from it for so long that when she pulled the canteen away, she had to take a deep breath of the cold winter air. Kahlan shivered as the cold air filled her being. The air was so cold it burned her lungs with its bitterness. Her breath was visible in a light gasp of steam each time she exhaled.

Her cheeks flushed when a sudden feeling of warmth seemed to seep over her. The dizziness overcame her again, and she pushed Nicci back as she purged up the water she had just drank. Kahlan shuddered and clutched her cloak tighter around her body.

"We have to get going," Kahlan asserted. "We… we have to find Richard."

Kahlan slowly stood up and wobbled for a moment, before Cara caught her. She looked up, smiling slighty, and gave the Mord'Sith a nod of thanks. Nicci slowly stood and followed. She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"Kahlan," she spoke slowly. "We… we need to talk."

Kahlan looked back, brushing her hair from her face, shaking her head, as she tightened the saddle straps around her horse. "We don't have the time, Nicci. Richard is out there somewhere with that other woman!" Kahlan hated the hurt that seeped into her voice, but she could not help it. Just the thought of Richard with another woman was painful. It twisted and gnawed at her insides like a disease.

Looking down for a moment and taking a breath, Kahlan tried to suppress her feelings and pull up her confessor's face, but it would not come. She clenched her teeth as she felt the anguish of what she had seen eat at her heart. She paused, halfway up to her horse, and slipped back off. Kahlan leaned against the horse and closed her eyes, wrinkling her nose, attempting to hold back the tears that were threatening to pour out.

However, her tears were too strong and they came rolling out. Her mouth dropped as she gasped for air as her sobbing took a firmer hold of her. She was quickly wrapped up in the comforting arms of the sorceress. Nicci held her firmly, and her hands rubbed her back soothingly.

"Please, Kahlan, talk to us," Nicci pleaded.

Cara was standing not far way, fiddling with her braid, looking just as worried and concerned as the former Sister of the Dark. Kahlan allowed Nicci to guide her away from the horse and towards a fallen tree trunk. They sat down and Nicci continued to sooth her.

"Is this about Richard?" she asked.

Kahlan clutched her hands over her heart and lowered her eyes. "Yes," she said. "I… I just can't get that image of Richard and… and that woman together out of my mind." Kahlan sobbed. She brushed the tears away from her face and laughed slightly, throwing her head back. "I… I don't know why I'm letting myself dwell on it. But…"

"Yes?" urged Nicci.

Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together. "I wish I had never seen it."

The sorceress gave a nod. Kahlan narrowed her eyes thinking. Nicci had told her that with the Chimes released magic was failing, but that her subtractive magic would still work. Suddenly seizing upon an idea, Kahlan grabbed Nicci's shoulders and glared into the sorceress's perfect blue eyes.

"You can use your subtractive magic," Kahlan said, her voice sounding hopeful. "You can eliminate the memories in my mind… you can take away those images from ever coming back to me. Please…? I… I cannot live with those images."

Nicci shook her head. "No, Kahlan, I can't," she asserted.

"But… but you said you still could use your subtractive magic," Kahlan protested.

"Yes, I can, but it would not be advisable for me to use it on your memories," Nicci said.

"Why not!" Kahlan demanded, nearly crying out.

"For one, such a thing has never been attempted before," Nicci attested, looking flustered and overwhelmed. "And to even attempt it would be extremely dangerous. I could end up destroying your mind, or worse, killing you."

Kahlan furrowed her brow and sat back huffing. "Then how did Richard lose his memories!"

"I cannot say," Nicci replied, remaining calm and collected. "I would have to examine him in person to be able to judge that."

Kahlan stood and made a move towards the horse. "Then we have to—" she stopped and blinked, feeling lightheaded. Cara was by her side in a blink of an eye.

"Are you all right, Mother Confessor?" the Mord'Sith asked, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Kahlan.

Kahlan lifted her hand and placed it on the red leather covered shoulder, trying to reassure Cara, but not succeeding. She faltered a bit and suddenly she felt something. She gasped as she felt it. It was a feeling that the older confessors had told her about. She had had precious little time with them, and they had hardly spoken to her about such matters. They had told her about procreation and what had been expected of her. But rarely had they covered this.

She had been overwhelmed when she had found Richard and had fallen in love with him. And then to finally have that love consummated without destroying the man she loved was beyond imagining. But this, what she was feeling now… it was different and far more overwhelming. And confusing. Kahlan clutched the necklace around her neck. She should not be feeling this.

"Kahlan, what is it?" Cara said, raising an eyebrow and looking at Nicci for help.

The sorceress came over and stood beside them. She looked at Kahlan with questioning eyes. "Yes, Kahlan," she added to Cara's plea. "Tell us, what is it? I may not have much of my powers, but I can tell that you have had a revelation."

Kahlan looked at Nicci with big eyes, the feelings over Richard being with the other woman were washed away with this new feeling and this new information. It made everything else seem insignificant in comparison. Slowly, her hand drifted down and rested over her middle, just below her navel.

"I was young when the older confessors told me about this," she spoke in explanation, looking up to meet the sorceress's gaze. "But I still remember them telling me that I would know."

Realization seemed to dawn in Nicci's eyes and she smiled, placing a hand on Kahlan's shoulder warmly. Cara looked back and forth between them, confused and perplexed, not yet in on it.

"What! What is it?" the Mord'Sith questioned, looking almost beside herself in worry.

Kahlan smiled and slowly caressed her stomach, still half-stunned and wondering how it could have happened. "Cara… they told me that a confessor would always know," she said, feeling an intense sense of joy, and wishing that Richard were here to share in this news, and in her delight. "I'm with child."

XXX

Richard took a deep breath, having a sudden feeling wash over him that he could not explain. Aydindril was in sight, and he could see the crimson cloaks of the D'Haran soldiers that were making their patrols around the front gate. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the battlements. Kahlan was standing next to him, her chest rising and falling as she took in deep breaths. He had to remind himself not to stare, but it was difficult. She was covered in the soft dew of her sweat, and her skin seemed to glisten in the afternoon sunlight.

Her crystal blue eyes locked with his and she smiled. Kahlan reached over and grabbed his hand in hers, pulling him with her as they made their way out of the brush and into the path. They walked up to the gates and the D'Haran soldiers immediately stood in salute and knelt before them.

Richard furrowed his brow. He did not know why they were doing this… wait, yes he did. Kahlan had told him that he was the Lord Rahl, the Master of D'Hara. So these soldiers were his men. And he… he was like some sort of prince.

Kahlan seemed to look uncomfortable with the men bowing before her, so Richard placed his arm around her waist, holding her close, trying to comfort her with his presence.

"You may rise," he said, not knowing what else to say.

The men stood and one of them stepped forth. "Would you like an escort through the city to the Confessor's Palace, Lord Rahl?"

Richard bit his lower lip and looked towards Kahlan for help. He may be this Lord Rahl, but he had no idea what the man was asking. He silently cursed his lack of memory. Kahlan narrowed her eyes for a moment, and her nose wrinkled as she thought. Then she looked up towards the man and gave a nod.

"Yes, that would be much appreciated," she told him.

The man saluted, pounding his fist to his chest, and then turned around and issued out the appropriate orders. Richard watched as more men seemed to appear from nowhere, and then he saw something that confused him greatly. A tall woman with a long braid running down her back, dressed in nothing except a tight form fitting red leather outfit, came sauntering out. Her hair had a golden sheen to it, and she wore an expression of relief. She stopped before them and smiled.

"Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor," she bowed her head. "We feared the worse."

"The worse?" Richard muttered, confused.

"Yes," the woman reached down to her waist and produced a small red rod with a gold chain attached to the end by her fingers. "We lost our sense of the bond and the agiels no longer worked. Some feared that you were dead, but Cara and Berdine didn't believe it."

The leather-clad woman stepped over and gave Kahlan a big hug. "How was the honeymoon, Mother Confessor?" she asked with a twinkling in her eye.

Kahlan seemed embarrassed and slightly nervous, but she smiled nonetheless. "It…," she looked at Richard and she smiled wider. "It was wonderful."

The woman laughed. "I'm sure it was."

"Rikka! What's all this commotion—!" an old man, in elaborate orange and brown colored robes, and long unkempt white hair, appeared amidst the D'Harans. He stopped and his grey eyes fixated on Richard. "Richard, my boy!" The old man beamed and covered the distance between them in a matter of seconds, embracing him in a big grandfatherly kind of hug. He then turned and gave the same sort of hug to Kahlan. "I've missed you, dear one."

Kahlan squinted for a moment, and her brow furrowed. For a split second she looked worried, like she had forgotten something, but then her smile returned and she beamed up at the old man. "Thank you, Zedd," she responded. "Though, it would be a lie to say I was missing you, as well."

The old man, this Zedd, laughed and placed his arm around her in a protective sort of way. "Indeed," he guffawed. Zedd turned to Richard and jabbed him with his elbow, winking. "I see you kept the Mother Confessor entertained, eh, Seeker?"

 _Seeker?_  Richard furrowed his brow for a moment, before remembering that Kahlan had told him that  _Seeker_  was another one of his appellations. He tried to smile, but had difficulty keeping it believable. Zedd's expression turned and twisted into concern. He placed a hand on Richard's shoulder and looked him in the eyes.

"What is it, my boy?" he inquired, his voice filled with concern.

Before he could answer, Kahlan stepped in and squeezed between them. "Richard's tired, Zedd," she said. "I think it best that we get him back to the Confessor's Palace, and some rest… maybe some food as well."

"Food!" Zedd grinned and rubbed his stomach. He turned back to Rikka, the leather-clad woman, and grinned wildly. "What did I tell you, Rikka, the Mother Confessor can always sense when this wizard's hungry!" His jovial mood then vanished and he turned back to them. "However, certain things must be discussed as soon as possible. Cara and Nicci went out to search for you two."

"Let us walk and talk, then," Kahlan suggested, leaning up close to Richard.

Richard sighed, enjoying the feel of her soft body next to his. He draped an arm over her shoulder, and they walked behind the squad of soldiers, who escorted them through the gates of Aydindril. As they entered the city, Richard gazed out at the sights and sounds. With no memories of this place, everything was foreign and new to him.

Zedd, the old man, and Rikka, clad in her leather, walked alongside them. The woman seemed to have her concentration focused like daggers out towards the crush of people around them, as if there were potential dangers out there. It slowly dawned on Richard that this woman must be a protector of some sorts, and that she served him and Kahlan.

Zedd had called himself a wizard, and Kahlan a confessor. Richard remembered her calling herself the Mother Confessor, but had never understood what it meant. What exactly was a confessor? And what did it mean to be the Mother Confessor? Those were questions Richard could not answer, but he did know what a wizard was. And there was something about Zedd, something that seemed familial.

"Magic is failing, Richard," Zedd spoke as they continued through the streets. "It started with simple things, like small spells, and gradually worked up to the more complex ones, like Wizard's Fire and the bond the D'Harans have with you as the Lord Rahl." His grey eyes gave Kahlan a hard look. "And no doubt, you cannot feel your powers, dear one."

Kahlan hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"I thought as much," Zedd said. "This is not good. Our only advantage against the Imperial Order was the magic we had on our side." He sighed and lowered his shoulders. "Well, at least the dreamwalker cannot use his powers, as well."

They continued in silence for a while, and Richard took the time to gather some of his thoughts and questions he had for this wizard Zedd, who seemed so familiar. Eventually they stopped at the beginning of a large square. Standing across from them, at the top of a small hill, leading up some grand stairs, was a large magnificent palace of white marble the glimmered and sparkled in the sunlight. Beside him, Kahlan seemed to lose her breath and began to become upset.

"Kahlan, what is it?" Richard questioned, turning her to look at him. He cupped her face in his hand and stroked the side of her face with his thumb. Spirits, she was so beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It pained him to see her in pain. Tears flowed from her brilliant blue eyes, and he tried to calm her.

"Oh, Richard…," she sobbed, burying her head in his chest. "I… I've been terrible. I've committed crimes and should be punished."

"Huh?" Zedd arched his neck and looked over his shoulder at them, raising an eyebrow in confusion. He locked eyes with Richard for a moment, then turned his attention to Kahlan. "Kahlan, dear one, what are you talking about?"

Kahlan pushed off of Richard's chest and turned to face the wizard. She knelt before him and lowered her head, averting her eyes. Richard's heart beat fiercely in his chest. Something was wrong. He did not know what it was, but he could sense it. A strange sort of determination seemed to radiate off of Kahlan. He moved himself to stand beside Zedd, keeping his eyes locked on her, and listened as she spoke, completely stunned by her words.

"Oh great wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander," Kahlan said in a calm, yet slightly trembling voice. "I humbly submit myself to your judgment. Before I tell you my crime, let me say this in my defense." She paused for a beat. "I have returned Richard Rahl, the Seeker of Truth and Master of D'Hara, to you in hopes that I can seek penance for my crimes."

"Crimes?" hooted Zedd, his countenance one of bewilderment. "What crimes, Kahlan?"

Kahlan tilted her head up and her wondrous blue eyes looked up at Richard, filled with shame and guilt. "That is my crime," she spoke. "I am not Kahlan Amnell."


	9. Developments

"What!" Cara blinked. The Mord'Sith's eyebrows shot up, as her expression changed to one of extreme concern and bewilderment.

"I'm with child, Cara," Kahlan replied, repeating what she had just said, as she slowly ran her fingers along her stomach, still half amazed herself.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Cara inquired, narrowing her eyes.

Kahlan laughed slightly. "It's not like I have a choice in the matter," she answered, continuing to run her hands along her midsection, her mind drifting as images of Richard penetrated her thoughts.

Slowly, she reached up and gripped the violet stained crystal that hung around her neck. She squinted as her mind worked in circles as she thought, trying to find a reason behind this sudden and unexpected condition, which she now found herself in.

Kahlan turned to Nicci and grabbed her arm. "Nicci, how can I be with child?"

Nicci raised her eyebrows and looked a bit uneasy. "Well…," the sorceress furrowed her brow, glancing over at Cara for a moment. "You did sleep with him, didn't you… on your honeymoon."

Kahlan felt her cheek flushs with embarrassment. "I know how one becomes with child," she smiled lightly. "But… what I don't understand, is how  _I_  became with child."

Her two friends exchanged a look and turned back to her looking even more confused. Then she remembered that they did not know about Shota's gift of the magical necklace that prevented conception. Slowly, Kahlan pulled back her hair and removed the crystal from around her neck, holding it out for the others to see.

"This necklace was a wedding gift, of sorts, from the witch woman Shota," Kahlan explained. "She called it a peace offering… a truce. Shota believes that if Richard and I were to have a child, that it would be a monster. She told me that this crystal would prevent conception."

Nicci took hold of the crystal and examined it with her perfect blue eyes. Kahlan watched as her friend looked over it and then handed it back.

"Well?" Kahlan inquired.

The sorceress took a deep breath before answering. "As far as I can tell, the crystal has no magic in it," Nicci said. "However, I must admit, right now with magic failing, my capability of sensing any magic is rather diminished." She paused and squinted. "It might have been possible that there was some sort of spell embedded in this crystal before. But with the release of the Chimes, I highly suspect that whatever spell was placed on it has waned."

Kahlan folded her fingers around the violet crystal, clutching it in a fist. "Then sometime between the time Shota gave it to me and now, the spell on it failed or, more aptly speaking, ceased to be."

Nicci gave a nod. "For someone who has never wielded any sort of magic, other than your confessor powers, you certainly seem capable of understanding it better than others."

Kahlan chuckled as she replaced the necklace around her neck. Cara frowned. "I don't see what's so funny about this," the Mord'Sith said, gesturing with her hands.

She looked at her friend and grinned. "It's funny because I did not expect this… I… I just thought I would have more time to prepare myself for… well… for this."

Cara narrowed her eyes and smirked. "You mean that you'd have more time with Richard… _alone_ , without a little one running around demanding attention."

Kahlan nodded, slightly amused at Cara's take on it. "Yes, I guess so," she agreed. "However, it's not like I'm disappointed or anything. In fact… I'm thrilled."

Nicci placed a hand on Kahlan's shoulder. "Then, to be the voice of reason," she said. "I must say something you will not like to hear." Kahlan gave a reluctant nod, already suspecting what the sorceress was going to say. "We should head back to Aydindril… and… um, confirm this development."

"Development!" Cara rolled her eyes. "I'd say this is more than just a development."

Kahlan closed her eyes, as she felt the feeling hit her again. As a young confessor she had been assigned to an older confessor who had just taken a mate. The confessor had become with child rather quickly, which, as a young teenager, had been immensely surprised Kahlan. Later, she had learned that confessor's were extremely fertile.

It was while she had been assigned to this confessor that Kahlan had learned that confessors could literally feel the presence of the new life in them once conception occurred. She remembered the confessor describing the sensations she felt. And those sensations were the exact ones Kahlan was experiencing.

Kahlan did not need it to be confirmed. She just knew… she just knew that she was with child. And it felt wonderful. Especially knowing whom the father was. Kahlan was thrilled that she would bear Richard's child. She was just a little concerned over Shota's warning. With her thoughts heading in that direction, she looked up at Nicci and gave in.

"Okay," she said, knitting her eyebrows together. "Though I'd rather stay out here and find Richard, I… I understand the need to go back to Aydindril. I… I can't allow any danger to come to me… especially now." She turned to Cara. "Nothing must cause me harm," she wrapped her arms around her middle. "Richard's child must not be harmed!"

"Nothing shall harm you as long as I live!" Cara firmly stated, with great conviction in her voice. Kahlan knew without a doubt that she could trust her life in the Mord'Sith's hands.

Beside them, Nicci put a hand on Kahlan's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "And I will not rest until your child's father is found," Nicci asserted. "But first, let us see to the mother's safety."

Kahlan nodded, and Cara helped up onto her horse. She felt a bit light headed, and near tears, both of joy and despair. Joy for the news that she carried Richard's child, yet despair over the absence of his presence. As the others climbed up on the remaining horse, Kahlan gripped the reins tightly with one hand. She allowed her other hand to drift down to rest over her belly. She closed her eyes and said a soft prayer to the good spirits, beseeching them to look after her yet unborn child.

"Ready?" Cara called back from her horse.

Kahlan blinked and glanced up. She took a quick breath and gave a nod. Kicking her heels into her horse's side, she spurred the mount on and followed behind as the others led the way. She swallowed pass a lump in her throat. Despite her determination not to put herself in danger with this latest development, Kahlan still felt uneasy about abandoning the search for Richard. She just hoped that he was all right and in no danger.

XXX

Cynthia took a deep breath and prepared herself for the punishment that would no doubt come. She was expecting a bombardment of heated words and demands to questions she did not know if she could answer with her limited knowledge. Bree was the brains behind the scheme, and the Sister of the Dark had made the plans. Cynthia had no idea where the Mother Confessor had been taken, or if she was even still alive. However, despite all that, she was willing and ready to do whatever she could to seek penance for her actions. Only then could she die with some sort of dignity, hopeful that her husband would except her once she entered the Underworld join him.

Nothing happened. Cynthia blinked, confused. She looked back and forth between the Lord Rahl and the First Wizard. They said nothing. Richard just stood there, looking confused and perplexed. She bit her lower lip and looked down, averting her eyes, feeling the shame and guilt sweep over her like a warm blanket on a cold night. Suddenly firm hands gripped her arms and pulled her up.

"You have a strange sense of humor, dear one," the wizard said. He brushed her hair away from her face, and shook his head. "Amusing to be sure, but, now is not the time for such silly things. Perhaps, later, you can tell me more of these strange jokes."

Her mouth dropped as she tried to think of a way to protest and attest that she was telling the truth, but everyone was already moving on. Richard slowly stepped up to her and reached out, gripping her hand. She looked up at his warm brown eyes, tears threatening to come out, but all she saw was concern and worry in his eyes. He did not look angry or hurt. Cynthia was baffled. This was not the reaction she had expected.

They walked up the steps to the doors of the palace. When they entered more people, no doubt friends of the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor, greeted them. Cynthia's heart pounded in her chest as fear over being discovered kept rushing through her mind. She had little doubt that soon this little fantasy she had found herself in would be shattered, and they would begin to demand answers.

"Richard, my boy," Zedd said, placing a hand on the Seeker's shoulder. "I need to speak with you in private for a moment." He looked at Kahlan and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, dear one, I'll return your husband to you shortly."

Cynthia gave a meek nod and turned away. Before she could fully leave his hold, Richard pulled her back and tenderly rubbed her arm with his hand. "Kahlan?" he questioned, a feeling of worry seemed to radiate from him.

"Don't worry, my Richard," Cynthia responded, placing a hand on his cheek. "Zedd is more than the First Wizard. He is your grandfather."

"My grandfather?" Richard knitted his eyebrows together.

"Yes, that's me!" Zedd said smiling, then he frowned. "Come now, Richard, don't tell me that your honeymoon was so exhilarating that it had caused you to forget poor old Zedd?" Rikka, the Mord'Sith standing behind Zedd, harrumphed and rolled her eyes. Zedd arched his neck towards her and gave her a playful glare before returning his attention to Richard and Cynthia.

Still with Richard's hands around her waist, Cynthia looked up at the old wizard and knitted her eyebrows together, trying to decide what to tell him. She had tried to tell them the truth, but it seemed that they were not yet ready to except it. At some point she was going to have to convince them. The Mother Confessor was in danger. The last Cynthia had ever seen of the Mother Confessor, she was being dragged away by Sister Bree, who was taking the poor woman to the Emperor of the Imperial Order.

She shuddered, having a vague idea of what the Emperor wanted to do with the Mother Confessor. Cynthia could not let that happen to a woman like Kahlan Amnell. She was going to have to convince these people that she was a fraud, an imposter, so that they could focus their attention on finding the Mother Confessor and rescuing her.

"Zedd," Cynthia spoke up, trying to sound more like the Mother Confessor. "Something has happened to Richard. He… he has lost his memories."

Zedd's brow furrowed and his grey eyes grew wide. "Is this true, my boy?" he asked the Lord Rahl.

Richard nodded. "The first thing I can remember is waking up to Kahlan in the middle of the forest during a fierce rainstorm," he affirmed. "I only have memories since then."

"How long ago was this?" the wizard asked.

"About a week," Cynthia answered.

Zedd raised a hand and stroked his chin as he thought. "Then we have bigger problems than the Order to deal with," he said.

"Do you know anything that can help?" Richard asked.

"If I could access my Han, yes," Zedd answered. "However, with the Chimes released and magic failing, I am of little help."

"Perhaps Verna or Warren will know something," Rikka spoke up. The Mord'Sith was standing slightly off to the side and was fiddling nervously with her golden braid.

The First Wizard gave a long nod. "Perhaps," he placed a hand on Richard's shoulder. "You should come with me, Richard. We'll go to the Wizard's Keep and see if Warren has read about something like this occurring before. He's quite an avid reader, you know."

Richard inclined his head and began to follow the wizard, but Cynthia kept her feet rooted to the ground. He stopped and turned back to her.

"Kahlan, are you coming?" he asked, and it pained her to hear the want and longing in his voice. He so desperately needed the Mother Confessor's presence to help strengthen him. Cynthia felt dirty to be even compared to the woman. She lowered her eyes and looked away.

"You go on ahead, Richard," she said, wanting to be alone with her thoughts, so she could come up with a way to prove to them that she was not the Mother Confessor.

Richard came over to her and his arms wrapped around her waist. He pulled her closer. Cynthia hesitantly tilted her head up and looked into his eyes, feeling all the more flushed with the desire she saw reflecting back to her in his eyes. His hand came up and he caressed her cheek, tucking some strands of her long raven hair behind her ear.

"You're my sun and stars, Kahlan," he murmured softly, before giving her a tender and loving kiss.

Cynthia closed her eyes and relished the feeling. Despite her better judgment, and her guilt over her crimes, she could not help but enjoy the feeling of his lips against hers. Slowly, he backed away and squeezed her hand affectionately, before turning and following his grandfather.

Rikka waited for a moment then turned to a pretty young handmaiden. "Ruthy," she said. "Tend to the Mother Confessor."

"Yes, Mistress Rikka." Cynthia turned and watched as the girl came over to her and bowed slightly. "If you like, Mother Confessor, I can prepare a bath for you."

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. She knew she must be filthy from all her time out in the wilds. Perhaps it was a good idea. A bath would give her time to think about how best to broach the subject of not being the Mother Confessor with the Lord Rahl. So, she inclined her head.

"Yes, Ruthy, thank you," she said. "That would be much appreciated."

The girl smiled. Cynthia folded her hands together and followed, as the handmaiden led her down the hallway, heading in the opposite direction of the Lord Rahl.


	10. The Truth Unveiled

Cynthia stepped into the warm bath and sighed, slipping down into the water. It felt good to get out of the cold and into something warm. Every pore in her body tingled with contentment. Though, she had to admit, it was kind of odd having a maidservant hovering around to see to her every want and need. Taking a deep breath, she submerged under the water, allowing it to soak into her hair. When she broke the surface, she nearly yelped at the sight of the maidservant moving about the washroom.

"Which shampoo would you like today, Mother Confessor?" Ruthy asked, as she opened one of the wooden cabinets and began removing some bottles and flasks of soap and washing oils.

Moving her soaked hair back from her face, and adjusting in the water to cover herself, Cynthia watched as Ruthy glanced up awaiting an answer. She gulped, unsure what to say. The Mother Confessor probably had a favorite soap she used that gave her a fragrance that the Lord Rahl liked. Cynthia felt a little apprehensive about adopting the same aroma. Having already stolen the identity of the woman, Cynthia did not want to take away another thing that belonged to her. It just did not seem right.

"Mother Confessor?" Ruthy turned, furrowing her brow. "Is something wrong?"

Looking away for a moment, Cynthia thought. She looked back up and tried to smile. "No… nothing, everything is fine," she lied.

"Then which shampoo would you like?" Ruthy inquired.

Cynthia bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the bottles and ointments she saw across the way next to the wooden cabinet. There was one that had a soapy pink colored shampoo that seemed to have been used the most. "The pink one," she said.

Ruthy smiled. "The usual, yes!" she beamed and picked it up. "I remember you telling me that the Lord Rahl really liked this one."

Dear Creator, that made Cynthia feel all the more terrible. The maidservant popped the stopper on the bottle and came over, dripping some of the pink fluid into her palm. Cynthia moved to rest her back against the edge of the tub, and allowed Ruthy to rub the soap into her hair. The maidservant's fingers moved through her hair and rubbed deep into her scalp, bringing the soap to a rich lather.

Cynthia closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax. It had been a long time since she had had a bath… a normal bath. The baths that Sister Bree had given her had always been long and filled with magical spells, and strange tingling sensations on her skin. Not to mention the tightening feeling she always felt between her legs as Bree used her powerful magic to restore her maidenhood.

Though, in the end there had been no need to do that. The Lord Rahl had already slept with the Mother Confessor, but Bree had still wanted to make Cynthia tight, hoping to entice the Lord Rahl with the feel of it when she made love to him. Cynthia had come close and had taken him in, breaking her new maidenhood, but she had not been able to make him release his seed into her, as Bree had wanted. She was glad she had not stolen that much. She wished she had not even taken it that far.

The guilt was overwhelming, and any of the comfort she got from this warm bath was quite literally washed away. Cynthia clenched her jaw tight, and she felt her muscles tense as the feeling of her shame over what she had done swept into her being.

"Mother Confessor?" Ruthy spoke up. "Is everything all right?"

Cynthia sniffled. "Yes… everything's fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're crying," Ruthy replied. "I've never seen you cry like this… except for when you thought the Lord Rahl was dead." The maidservant paused in her work. "I apologize… I am just concern about you."

Oh, why did she have to say that? This girl, this kind girl, did not know the truth. She was not serving the Mother Confessor, but an imposter. Cynthia wiped her eyes and told the maidservant to finish and forget about it. Ruthy rinsed Cynthia's hair with the warm water, and then helped her dry off after she got out of the tub. Wrapping herself in a wool towel, Cynthia and Ruthy then walked out of the washroom and into the bedchambers.

Cynthia looked around and lowered her head, feeling ashamed. Ruthy walked past her and opened up the wardrobe. She looked up and watched as the maidservant removed a beautiful white dress. Her breath caught as the fabric seemed to shimmer and glow in the candlelight. She raised her eyebrows and did not know what to do. How could she dress in the Mother Confessor's dress? It was wrong, oh so very wrong. But she could not resist. Not now. Not when the Lord Rahl needed the strength he got from the presence of his love, even if he did not realize the woman he was looking at was not truly his beloved.

She allowed Ruthy to help her dress. At first she felt uncomfortable in the corset, but when the laces had been fastened all the way, and she was finally able to breathe, just not as deeply as she had without the accursed thing on, she felt better. A small black shift was next, then Ruthy brought out the white dress. Cynthia held out her arms and slid them through the sleeves. Ruthy then tied the loose strings in front and in the back, tightening it.

When they were done, Cynthia stepped over and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her breath caught. She never thought she had ever looked so beautiful. The corset helped to accentuate her curves, and pushed her breasts together, giving a rather generous display of cleavage. The white dress seemed to compliment her pale alabaster skin, and her blue eyes shone out like beckons in the night. The long fall of her dark hair gave off a raven black sheen in the light, and Cynthia almost forgot who she really was.

XXX

Aydindril was in sight. The first thing she saw was the towering wall. In the distance, shadowed by the grey winter clouds was the Wizard's Keep, looming over everything like a silent sentinel. And there, a brilliant dome rose above the walls, gleaming white in all its glory, was the Confessor's Palace: The home of all confessors… her home.

Kahlan took a deep breath and sighed with relief. It had only been slightly over a week, yet it felt as if it had been an eternity. This city held so many memories for her… some good, some bad… and some great. When they reached the gates, the guards noticed Cara and stood in formation. Some of the men seemed surprised to see Kahlan, but they did not say anything. They rode through the portcullis into the streets.

The crowds parted for them as they made their way through the city. As they passed the marketplace, the people going about their business stopped and bowed. Her heart beat fiercely beneath her breast as they approached the large square before the Confessor's Palace. Her memories of stepping out from the palace and walking down an aisle formed by the First File to take Richard's hand in marriage came flooding back to her.

Kahlan could not help but smile. She remembered every moment of that day, and especially the night that followed… well, to be more precise, the nights. She had never experienced such pleasure or ecstasy. Being with Richard was a rapture beyond compare. Even traveling in the sliph was not as pleasurable as being with Richard. Then it hit her. Richard was gone, and his memories had been stolen. Lost. He had no memory of their wedding or their wedding night.

Lost in her own thoughts and concerns, Kahlan was hardly aware that they had arrived at the stables of the Confessor's Palace. Cara and Nicci were in the process of dismounting when Kahlan came out of her ruminations. Cara came over and offered a hand to help her down.

"Cara?"

"Yes, Kahlan?"

"I'm not a cripple," Kahlan said. "And I'm not that far along. I can still do things on my own."

Cara shrugged. "Fine… whatever."

Kahlan slipped down from the horse and caught her breath. Spirits, her legs ached and her rear was sore from riding for so long. They had rode hard and quickly, much at her own insistence. Kahlan wanted to get back as soon as possible, so that Zedd could start working on a way to combat the Chimes. And possibly find a way to restore Richard's memories.

She adjusted her weight on her feet and reached behind to rub the small of her back. Kahlan felt suddenly very tired. Her "condition" had been confirmed when her moon blood had not come on the second day of her cycle. It did not always come on her first day, so she had given it some time. However, when the next day came, nothing happened.

Now, beyond a doubt, Kahlan knew that she was with child. The prospect thrilled and scared her at the same time. What scared her the most was knowing how fast the changes would come. For a normal woman, the gestation period usually took nine months. But confessors, well, confessors were different. It would only take her half that time. Another week or two and she would already be showing.

"Kahlan?" Nicci questioned in concerned, placing a hand on her arm.

Kahlan blinked. "Yes, I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

Nicci's eyes looked understanding. "About Richard?"

She nodded. "Richard is never far from my mind, Nicci," Kahlan replied, taking a deep breath and running her hands over her middle, thinking more about Richard and the life that they had created together. She wished he was here and they were together. Life was easier when she had Richard by her side. She had never realized how much she needed him until she no longer had him.

When she had been on the run from Darken Rahl's quads, Kahlan had never thought that she would have encountered a man who would blow away all her previous conceptions about life. Richard had changed her mind about love. She had always believed she would never know love… true love. That she would marry for duty and marry solely for the purpose of conceiving another confessor.

But Richard changed all that. Kahlan immediately felt a connection with him… an attraction that she had never expected. His eyes looked at her in ways she had never been looked at before. During their subsequent journey through the Midlands, she would catch him looking at her and she would smile inwardly, silently enjoying the attention. She liked the flattery, and his subtle overtures towards wooing.

However, she had known that it could not go any further than that; A fact that Zedd had annoyingly pointed out constantly. But then… then everything changed. It was after they had defeated Rahl that Richard had told her about the future that could have happened. It was then, at that moment on the beach, that they admitted their feelings for one another. That was when Kahlan had decided she would risk everything to stay by his side, even if it meant she would never get to experience the joys of physical love.

Now, here she was, almost two years later and in the early stages of carrying his child. Richard's child. Not some mate she had to take during confession, but Richard. Her Seeker. Her Lord Rahl. Her husband. The man she loved more than life itself was going to be the father of her child, and she was thrilled.

Kahlan narrowed her eyes, and looked at Nicci. The sorceress still had a hand on her lower arm. Kahlan reached out and placed her hand over Nicci's, squeezing it in thanks. "Let's get to Zedd."

They walked away from the stables and up the steps towards the Confessor's Palace. Soldiers of the First File stood in guard at the doors. They opened the doors for them and Kahlan led the way. Inside the entrance hall, Kahlan saw a young maidservant walking across the room.

"Ruthy!" Kahlan shouted out, smiling. The young girl had been her maidservant through many difficult times, and she had come to enjoy—even at times, rely on, her time with the girl.

Ruthy turned and bowed her head. "Mother Confessor…," her eyebrows rose in confusion. "Why aren't you with the Lord Rahl?"

"What? Richard… he's here!" Kahlan could hardly believe it. She gripped the maidservant's arms and looked into her eyes. "Where?"

"He's in the council chambers, Mother Confessor," Ruthy blinked, startled. Her expression was one that said she thought it was obvious. "And… forgive me for asking, but when did you change?"

"Change?" Kahlan furrowed her brow. She shrugged it off and turned in the direction of the council chambers. Nicci and Cara took of right behind her. Ruthy hesitated for a moment, looking somewhat baffled and bewildered, but soon she, too, joined the group.

XXX

The two days back in Aydindril had been difficult to say the least. He had spent most of his time with Zedd in the Wizard's Keep. Now they were in the council chambers, where Zedd and Verna were trying to teach him about the Imperial Order. He was growing tired and bored. He had missed Kahlan during the past two days. She had kept herself distant, keeping mostly to herself, staying mostly in her bedchambers with her maidservant Ruthy.

Richard slept elsewhere, which caused him even more confusion. If everything she had told him was true, then he was her husband, and she his wife. If that was so, then why did they not share a bed? When he went to bed he felt alone and empty, as if he was suppose to share his bed with someone. And everything inside him screamed that it was Kahlan.

So, to that end, he had used his power as Lord Rahl to summon her. She could not refuse such a summons from the Master of D'Hara, so she had come, dressed in her white confessor's dress. When she entered he smiled, and stood up from his chair, ignoring Zedd's pedantic ramblings about troop movements and such. Richard immediately wrapped her up in his arms.

Kahlan shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before relenting and easing into his hold. He brought his hands up and ran his fingers through her long lush hair.

"Kahlan, I've missed you," he murmured softly, taking note that both Zedd and Verna were watching. "Why have you kept your distance?"

She backed up and rested her hands on his chest. The blues of her eyes shone with a brilliance that caught his breath and his heart skipped a beat. Her lips parted and his eyes focused on them. He waited for her to answer.

"Richard, please, I need you to listen to me," Kahlan spoke hastily, her eyes darting over to look at Zedd and Verna. "I am not Kahlan. I am not your wife. I never was."

Richard shook his head. "Kahlan, stop this," he said, caressing her cheek, tenderly wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb. "Zedd is right, this joke isn't funny." He lowered his voice. "And with my loss of memory, I don't find it that amusing. I need you to be strong. I need you, Kahlan."

"Please, stop that," she whimpered. "Oh, why do you have to be so kind and understanding?" Kahlan looked back up at him and knitted her eyebrows together. "I may wish to be your wife, but I am not. I can never be her."

"What are you saying?" Richard was growing worried. Was she trying to tell him that his loss of memory was too much for her to bear, and that she no longer wished to be his wife? He did not know if he could live with that. His heart, his very soul yearned for Kahlan. He wanted nothing more than to simply be with her. "Kahlan, please?"

"No!" she shook her head defiantly. "Do not call me that! I am not Kahlan. My name is Cynthia. I am not a confessor, nor have I ever been one. I may look and sound like her, but I am not her. I am a fake, a genetic copy. Nothing more, nothing less. You must believe me."

"Enough!" he was growing impatient and angry. He gripped her head in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. She began to sob and he regretted his tone, but he was growing tired of this farce.

Kahlan lowered her eyes and cried. Behind him, Richard could sense both Zedd and Verna stepping closer. He glanced over his shoulder and signaled them with a look to hold back. Kahlan was truly emotional right now, and he had a feeling that he was probably the only one who could help her. He gently rubbed her arms and pulled her closer, taking hold of her waist with one hand, while with the other raising her gaze to meet his. He brushed away her tears and looked into her brilliant blue eyes.

"I may have no memories of our first meeting, our first kiss, or our wedding," he stated firmly. "Yet I know this: My heart, my soul, my very being, still demands you, Kahlan. You are my wife, and I love you. And if my memories never return, then so be it. I still love you, Kahlan."

He gripped her head in his hands and captured her lips with his. He pushed into her, running his fingers through her silky smooth hair, allowing them to flow down its length. Her hands rested on his chest, as he pulled her closer, one hand running down to rest at the small of her back.

A yawning noise of the doors opening temporarily distracted him from kissing his wife, but he soon refocused his attention. However, that attention was quickly pulled away when he heard a wail that sounded so familiar that it tore at his very soul. Kahlan turned away from him, crying, crumbling onto the floor before a woman standing in the threshold of the door.

Richard blinked, too stunned to say anything as he took in that woman. She was dressed much as she had been when he had first opened his eyes that week and a half ago. She was dressed in a black ensemble with a skirt that generously showed off her lovely thighs. Her long fall of raven hair framed a pale face that looked heartbroken. But it was the eyes that caught his attention. They held a quality that the woman sprawled on the floor lacked, a quality the roared authority and respect.

His lips trembled and he fought to keep himself upright. He looked back and forth between the two of them, his mind reeling with uncertainty and confusion. A gnawing painful feeling seemed to stab his chest and he felt compelled to speak.

Richard looked questioningly up at the stunningly beautiful woman standing in the doorway, and opened his mouth. "Kahlan?"


	11. Difficult Confessions

The doors parted and Kahlan's mouth dropped, and she involuntarily let out a wail as she saw Richard in the middle of a deep kiss with the other woman, the one who looked exactly like her. The woman—if she remember correctly, Cynthia was her name—immediately pushed away from Richard and collapsed on the floor at Kahlan's feet, sobbing and pleading for mercy and forgiveness. Kahlan could not look at her; it was too painful, seeing the woman in  _her_ white confessor dress, kissing  _her_  husband.

As for Richard, he just stood there, gawking at her. His lips trembled and his eyes darted back and forth between Kahlan and Cynthia. Judging from his countenance, Kahlan knew that he was confused. His eyes darted back up to her and he scanned her body, uncertainty seeping into his face. Then, their eyes locked and she tried to look at him with all the love she had in her heart for him, but it was difficult, especially after seeing him kiss another woman.

He took a hesitant step forward, and stopped, his eyes looking at her questioningly. His brow knitted together. "Kahlan?"

Spirits, the sound of her name issuing out from his lips was wonderful, even it was in an uncertain and baffled kind of way, it was still her name that he spoke. But then, her mind hardened, and she remembered what she had seen Richard do with Cynthia back in the forest. He… he had made love to that woman! A woman that was not her! Kahlan did not care if she looked like her, and that, in his mind, Cynthia was her.

It still hurt, though, seeing him enter another woman and find pleasure in it; A pleasure that he should only find when he was with her, Kahlan Amnell, his wife. He had vowed in front of witnesses, and in the name of the Creator, to love her and her alone. He had made a promised! A promise he'd broken. She knew it was silly to blame him when he had no memory, but she could not help herself. He had still broken his promise! And she felt heartbroken.

Kahlan focused her eyes on him in a glare and her chest heaved as she took in deep breaths, trying to quell her growing anger, but it was hard. She clenched and unclenched her fist as she stared at him, not knowing what to think. It did not help that all he did was look back. He made no move or gave no signal that he knew that she was the real Kahlan. All he did was stand there, looking awkward and disoriented.

Huffing in agitation, Kahlan darted past Cynthia, ignoring the supplications of the woman, and rushed towards Richard. Her hand flew out before she could think, and made contact with his cheek in a resounding slap that left the room stunned and silent. Then, just as quickly, she gripped his head in her hands and rammed her mouth against his, infusing her kiss with all the pent up frustration and desire she always had for Richard. Even though she was angry with him, she still loved him.

As she continued to kiss him, Kahlan was annoyed that his hands just laid uselessly at his sides. Kahlan wanted to feel his hands on her. Touching and caressing her curves as he had before, like he did when they were on their honeymoon. She backed away for a moment, but only for a moment, just to breathe, before slamming back into him, not giving him the opportunity to say anything or protest.

Kahlan let her hands fall to his shoulders. Slowly, she crept her arms around his neck and began playing with the hair on the back of his head, as she always did when they kissed. That's when he changed. It was like he somehow remembered the touch. His hands immediately went for her waist, and his arms looped around her, pulling her closer.

" _Ahem_ ," they backed away as Zedd cleared his throat, stepping over. Kahlan looked over and blinked, suddenly blushing, remembering where they were and how intimately she and Richard had been kissing. Zedd looked at her with his grey eyes, and his eyebrows shot up. "Kahlan?"

She gave a nod. "Yes, Zedd, it's me."

The wizard turned and looked down at Cynthia, who was still kneeling before Kahlan, supplicating herself and weeping. He pointed a gnarled finger toward her. "Then who's this?"

The woman sobbed and wiped her eyes. "I… I…," she choked, trying to explained

Kahlan pushed back from the still stunned Richard and knelt down next to the woman. She grabbed the woman's hand, and yanked her ring off. "This is mine!" she hissed. Biting her trembling lower lip, Kahlan put the ring back on her finger… where it belonged. She stood up. "Her name is Cynthia," Kahlan informed Zedd. "And she's working for some Sister of the Dark."

"No!" Cynthia cried, grasping for Kahlan's leg. Kahlan moved back, glaring down at the woman with hate in her eyes. "I loathe her! She… she force me to do terrible things."

"Terrible things!" Kahlan spat back. "From what I saw, you seemed to enjoy yourself." She spun around and glared at Richard, pointing an accusatory finger towards him. "As did you!"

"Me?" Richard raised his eyebrows, mystified.

"Yes, you!" she snapped.

"Kahlan, I don't think now is neither the time nor place for this," Nicci said, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. Kahlan looked at the sorceress with a heated glare, but inclined her head, relenting. Nicci arched her neck and glanced back at Cara. "Cara, why don't you take Richard back to his chambers. The Mother Confessor and I have a lot to tell the First Wizard."

The Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes and gave a nod. She walked over to Richard and grabbed his arm, gesturing for him to follow. He hesitated for a moment, looking back and forth between the two women he knew as Kahlan, and then went with Cara. Kahlan kept her eyes averted, not wanting him to see the tears that were forming. She did not want him to see her weakness. Spirits, she was so emotional. Kahlan hated feeling this way. She had always prided herself on being in control. As soon as the doors closed, Kahlan released her breath.

"What is going on?" Zedd questioned, glancing back and forth between Kahlan and Cynthia.

Kahlan inhaled quickly and pointed at the woman in the white dress at her feet. "That woman is a fake! An imposter, trained by a Sister of the Dark to seduce Richard and take him from me!" she said.

Zedd knitted his bushy eyebrows together and knelt down next to Cynthia. He placed a hand on her arm and helped her up. Cynthia shuddered, resisting at first, but soon relented and accepted his help. Kahlan watched, folding her arms across her chest, not liking the kindness the old wizard was showing the imposter.

"Is this true?" Zedd asked her.

Cynthia blinked and her eyes… her eyes that were so like her own, looked towards Kahlan, before returning to Zedd. She gave a weak nod and opened her mouth.

"It is true," she said softly. Her voice sounded exactly like Kahlan's; it was kind of surreal hearing her talk. Cynthia looked at Kahlan for a moment, and then averted her eyes. "Sister Bree wanted me to take the Lord Rahl to a special grove which would enhanced the capability of conception. She… she wanted me to seduce the Lord Rahl and conceive a child, which the Imperial Order could then mold and raise in their beliefs."

"I knew it!" Kahlan snapped.

" _Shh_!" Zedd glanced up, and shook his head. "Let her speak, dear one."

Kahlan harrumphed, but did as the First Wizard asked. Cynthia shuddered, and gulped. Zedd turned back to her and encouraged her to continue.

"If that was your assignment, then why did you bring Richard back here and tell us about his loss of memory?" Zedd asked.

Kahlan's mouth dropped, stunned. She could not believe what she had just heard. This woman had brought Richard back to Aydindril and told them about his loss of memory.

"Yes? Why did you bring him here?" Kahlan spoke up, suddenly finding herself very interested in what Cynthia had to say.

Cynthia swallowed and looked at Kahlan with big blue eyes. "I had to make amends for my crime, Mother Confessor," she spoke quickly, as if afraid she would be cut off. She stepped away from Zedd and hesitantly stood before Kahlan. She bowed her head and lowered her voice, so that only Kahlan could hear. "He did not seed me, Mother Confessor. Yes, I took him inside me, but it was not for that long. He… he heard you cry, and he pushed me off, standing in concern and confusion. His… his excitement was gone after that. And since then, I have not lain with him, for my guilt would not allow it."

Kahlan furrowed her brow, now feeling guilty for having slapped Richard and being so angry with him. Her imagination and fears, and the snide comments of the Sister of the Dark, had twisted her mind into believing Richard had made loved to Cynthia. When in fact, he had not. Though, he had kissed her… and had kissed her in a way he had always only ever kissed her, Kahlan, his wife. She reached out and placed a hand on Cynthia arm and directed her away from the others. Zedd and Nicci drifted together and spoke in hushed voices, and Verna joined them, as Kahlan led her look alike into the corner of the room.

"Cynthia, tell me, if you feel so much guilt over your part in this… this fraud," Kahlan inquired, "then why have you persisted in it? Allowing the others to continue to believe you were me?"

"I… I tried to tell them, Mother Confessor," Cynthia insisted. "When we first arrived and I told them about the Lord Rahl, I then knelt before the First Wizard and told him the truth." She paused and glanced up at Zedd. "But he believed I was making some jest. That I was you. And… and I thought it best that I maintain the deception until you were found. I noticed how much the Lord Rahl loves you and seems to depend on your strength. I could not take that away from him, like I had already assisted in stealing you."

"How is it that you got involved in this plan?" Kahlan demanded.

Cynthia lowered her eyes. "I was taken as a slave when my village was attacked by Imperial Order soldiers. They killed Jared, my husband, and took me away to become a camp whore," she closed her eyes and shuddered.

Kahlan took a deep breath through her nose, not knowing how to feel about this woman. Though, hearing this, she felt sympathy for her. Hesitantly, Kahlan reached out and placed her arms around the woman in a comforting hug. Cynthia seemed to need it, and she eased into Kahlan's embrace, resting her head on Kahlan's shoulder as she sobbed.

"Jared was my first and one true love and… and they killed him!" she wailed. "They forced him to watch as each man of the raiding party had their way with me, before finally killing him."

Kahlan patted her back and tried her best to calm the distraught woman. After a time, Cynthia eased back and brushed away her tears with the back of her hand. "Eventually, I was taken out of the tents and sent to serve as a wine girl in the Emperor's service," Cynthia continued her story. "That was when the wizard Neville first glimpsed me, and noticed my resemblance to you." She shuddered. "He too, sought pleasure from my flesh."

"He… he raped you?" Kahlan gasped softly. In a way, having this woman abused by that dark wizard, almost felt like she, herself, had been violated; the woman's likeness to her was that similar.

"Many times," Cynthia closed her eyes. "But then… then Sister Bree stopped him. The Emperor… the Emperor had other plans for me." She looked up at Kahlan and her brow creased in fear. "They wanted to abduct you, so that the Emperor could force himself on you. Sister Bree told me that the Emperor wished to plant his seed in you and have a child of both confessor and dreamwalker blood. At the time I did not understand… but now I do."

Cynthia paused, taking slow steady breaths, calming her nerves, before continuing. "Sister Bree protected me, even looked after me," she said. "For a time, I actually thought she cared about me. And I… I looked after and tended to her after the Emperor brutalized her in his sexual wants and desires." Her eyes locked with Kahlan's. "He's a monster, Mother Confessor." She looked away. "Sister Bree told me that if I helped in their plan that she could arrange it so that the Keeper of the Underworld would restore life to my Jared… my beloved." She finished in a whimper.

Kahlan was beginning to change her mind about Cynthia. It was painfully obvious now that she had been an unwilling pawn. Used by others with more power to manipulate into doing their will. Even without her confessor powers, because of the Chimes sapping of the magic in the world, Kahlan could tell that Cynthia was telling the truth. When she had been instructed in the art of reading people, it was not just with her powers, but also with her eyes. It was the little things, like someone's body language and eye movements that told the truth behind their words. Some people would unknowingly betray themselves by flushing slightly when lying. It was an easy enough thing for a confessor to learn, and Kahlan sensed no deception from Cynthia.

"Why the change of heart, then?" Kahlan inquired. "If Bree had promised to restore your husband to you, why did you bring Richard back here?"

"Because it was the right thing to do, Mother Confessor," Cynthia spoke with conviction. "I loathe Sister Bree. She lied to me; I know that now. The Keeper does not grant life, he takes it. And…," she lowered her eyes. "And I could not betray the memory of my husband. The Lord Rahl is kind and gentle, but he is not the man I love. He… he belongs to you, as you belong to him. I knew that he only reacted to me in the fashion he did, because of how I look, and not because of who I am."

Cynthia paused for a quick breath. "Before Sister Bree began the plan, we spied on you, and I saw how you two kissed and the way you looked at each other. It was then that my misgivings began. And it was not until I felt the Lord Rahl inside me that I changed my mind." Cynthia narrowed her eyes and spoke with firm resolve. "I could not do something that would serve the Imperial Order, especially after what they did to me. I could not see them triumph. Sister Bree had always told me that the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor stood against the Order. And when I was alone with the Lord Rahl, that was when I made my decision to serve those who fought the oppressors."

"Then, is that what you want?" Kahlan asked. "To serve us?" She no longer felt any hostility towards this woman. In reality, she now felt pity for Cynthia. To hear of the terrible things that had been inflicted upon her, made Kahlan want to weep, the images were so horrible, especially with the fact that when she imagined it, it was almost as if it was to her that those things were happening to.

"Yes, Mother Confessor," Cynthia bowed her head. "That is what I wish." She knelt on her knees before Kahlan and grabbed her hands. "Let me serve you… and make penance for my crimes against you and the Lord Rahl. Before I die and join my husband in the Underworld, let me do some good in this world."

Kahlan looked at the woman, and lowered her brow, thinking. She gave a nod, and signaled for her to stand. Cynthia smiled meekly and obeyed. "I pledge my life to your service, Mother Confessor," Cynthia said. "What little I have, is yours to command."

Raising her hand, Kahlan gestured for Ruthy to come over. As she did so, Kahlan noticed that the others were looking her way, awaiting her pronouncement. Gripping Cynthia's hand in hers, like she was a sister, Kahlan turned towards Zedd, Nicci, and Verna.

"Cynthia is not to be harmed or punished," she spoke loudly, her commanding voice resounding throughout the council chambers. "She was forced into doing this, and has tried to convince you all many times to her true identity, but it appears no one would listen to her." She gave Zedd a stare when she said that. "She is under my protection now. If anything foul should befall her, then the culprit will have to answer to the Mother Confessor."

Zedd and Verna nodded. Ruthy came over and took Cynthia's arm. Kahlan smiled reassuringly towards the woman and told her to go with her maidservant. She watched as the two departed, and then she prepared herself for the barrage of questions she knew was going to come.

"Are you sure this is wise?" it was Verna who asked the question that all were thinking.

Kahlan gave a shrug. "I do not know," she replied, folding her hands in front of her, taking on the stance of the Mother Confessor. "But I can sense no lie in the woman. She was manipulated, abused, and spirits knows what else was done to her. She wishes to help. And I will allow it."

Zedd stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, his grey eyes looked sorrowful. "I am sorry, dear one," he said in a heavy voice. "I should have known."

"How could you?" Kahlan stated. "It is all my fault. I said the words that released the Chimes. You have no magic to sense things, or do anything to help. None of us do… except Nicci, who can still use her subtractive magic."

"Yes, why is that?" Zedd turned on the sorceress.

Nicci looked at him with her perfect blue eyes. "The Chimes are of the Underworld, Zedd," she answered.

The wizard gave a nod, understandingly. Verna huffed and shook her head. "Well, it appears some good came from you joining those Sisters of the Dark, then!" she nearly snapped at Nicci. "Perhaps you can use your powers, then, to help Richard."

Nicci took a deep breath and looked towards Kahlan. The Mother Confessor knew that the sorceress could do nothing to help; yet it hurt seeing the pain plain in Nicci's eyes. She knew that sorceress wished she could and that it was killing her inside that she could not.

"Well, whatever can be done for Richard, might have to wait," Zedd interjected, sensing the awkward pause in the conversation and trying to redirect it. "Right now, we have to concern ourselves with the defense of the Midlands from the Imperial Order." He gestured for Kahlan to follow him. "And with Richard… well, with Richard indisposed, so to speak, you, my dear, are the leader of the D'Haran Empire."

Kahlan stopped in her tracks. "What?"

Zedd blinked. "Come now, Kahlan, don't acted like a simpleton," Zedd chuckled. "You married the Lord Rahl. You are his consort, his wife… his queen. He named you his second-in-command. So, it is you, Mother Confessor, who is now the leader of our struggle."

Kahlan swallowed pass a lump in her thoughts. As if she didn't already have enough worries to concern herself. Nicci looked at her, sensing her thoughts. "Tell them," the sorceress suggested.

"Huh? Tell us what?" Zedd inquired, knitting his eyebrows together in concern. He may not have his magic, but he was still the First Wizard.

"Zedd," Kahlan spoke hesitantly, trying to work out the words before she spoke them. "I am not just the wife of the Lord Rahl—"

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, waving a hand to dismiss what she was saying, missing the point.

"No, Zedd, you don't understand," Kahlan spoke more forcefully, stepping forward. "I'm with child!"


	12. Delayed Reunion

His cheek still smarted from where she had slapped him. Richard supposed he had deserved it for how he had simply gawked at her. But then… she kissed him, and… well, it was extraordinary. He had enjoyed that kiss very much, and had been slightly disappointed when it was over. Again, he was hit with the overwhelming feeling that this woman, Kahlan Amnell, was the love of his life. Spirits, he wished he had his memories, so he could confirm his suspicions and fully embrace Kahlan as he suspected he had before he lost his memories.

Richard continued to tenderly rub his cheek, not truly knowing how to feel about it. Even though it was an almost stinging feel, he seemed to still relish it. As if any touch that Kahlan gave him was worth any discomfort that came with it; to simply feel her hand on his face made him yearn to know and feel more.

As the Mord'Sith Cara led him away from the council chambers, Richard arched his neck and glanced over his shoulder to look through the doors, as they were closed behind them. He caught one last glimpse of the two women. One standing tall and commanding, full of grace and authority, while the other, dressed in that gorgeous white dress, was sprawled, in supplication, on the floor by the other's feet.

Two Kahlans. Now that was something hard to wrap his mind around. They both were exquisitely beautiful, however, the new one, the one that had just arrived, slapped him and then kissed him… well, there was something about her that pulled at his soul. There was a kind of aura that radiated around her that reminded him of the woman he woke up to that day in the rain. The one he knew loved him.

He pursed his lips together and thought about the kiss. It had been filled with so much passion, completely unlike the kiss that he had been giving to Kahlan before the other Kahlan appeared… no, he had not been kissing Kahlan. She was… what? A fake. What was it that they had called her? … Cynthia. Whatever their names where, they both looked exactly the same. Yet, at the same time, there was something different about them. If he had to pinpoint a difference, it would probably be their eyes. The one who had slapped him had eyes that enchanted him more so than the one who had traveled with him to Aydindril.

Cara opened a door for him and he entered the room. "Stay here," the Mord'Sith ordered curtly and started to leave.

Richard blinked and looked around the room. "Wait," he said, grabbing her arm. "Do I know you?"

The Mord'Sith looked at him and harrumphed. "So it's true, you don't remember?"

He gave a nod. "Yes. All I can remember is waking up two weeks ago in the rain with Kahlan…," Richard lowered his brow, suddenly becoming worried. "If she was the real Kahlan." He shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. "I… I'm so confused."

Cara blinked and shrugged. "I suppose you are," she said. Then she pointed a finger at him, as if to accuse him of something. "Well, now the real Kahlan as returned. So you better not hurt her… or I'll hurt you!" She said this while whipping out a red rod and holding it in front of his face. "Even if you are the Lord Rahl… I still will not see Kahlan hurt. So," she holstered the red rod, "you better behave yourself when she comes to you to explain things and get some answers from you. Do you understand?"

Richard took a deep breath and nodded. He was looking forward to seeing Kahlan again and hearing what she had to say. He hoped she would not be too mad at him. Though, truth be told, he really did not know what exactly it was he had done. He knew that at some point there had been a switch, where they had supplanted Cynthia in place of Kahlan. He wished he knew when that was. Richard hoped that it was after they had almost made love. He did not know if he could forgive himself if he had betrayed a woman who so obviously meant everything to him.

His memories weren't there, but all the signs were. It was obvious that she was important to him. Everything seemed to scream that to him. Taking another breath to ease his nerves, he looked around at his surroundings and gaped.

"Huh, Cara?" he said turning back to the Mord'Sith. "Where are we?"

Cara placed a hand on her hip and smirked. "You're seriously telling me you can't remember this place?"

"Should I?" he asked, glancing around at the bedchambers. It was perhaps the largest bedchambers in the entire palace. And the centerpiece of the enter room seemed to be a rather large bed with white sheets. He gasped as realization struck. "This is  _our_ bedchambers," he said, looking back at Cara for confirmation. "Kahlan's and mine. Isn't it?"

Cara folded her arms across her chest, and gave a nod. "Yes."

For some reason his heart began to beat faster. Just being somewhere that should hold special memories to him that he no longer had was agonizing. He did not know if he wanted to remain here. Just the thought of not remembering the things that he should was tormenting him. He wanted to leave. He made a move to exit the chambers, when Cara stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

She shook her head. "No you don't," she said, grinning, and a playful glint in her eye. "You're not going anywhere. Not now."

"I… I don't deserve her," Richard groaned.

"Of course you don't," Cara said raising an eyebrow. "But like it or not, she loves you and you love her."

"Do I?"

Cara laughed. "Yes, you do," she smirked. "I've had to put up with you two love birds for so long that I'm almost sick of all that mushy romantic stuff." She harrumphed and rolled her eyes. "If there was no immediate threat to the Midlands, you two would still probably be off on your honeymoon going at it like rabbits."

Richard blinked, and stared into her eyes, trying to judge the truth behind her words. He let out a breath, sensing no deception in her. Somehow, someway, this woman knew of him… almost intimately. And it was obvious she was aware of his relationship with Kahlan. His shoulders slumped and he turned back to look at the bedchambers.

"How do you know me?" he asked, inclining his head slightly to look at her.

She took some hesitant steps closer to him then stopped. "You saved me," was her response.

Richard turned around to look at her, and gone was the over confidant Mord'Sith, replaced by a vulnerable young woman. He furrowed his brow. "How? How did I save you?"

Cara hugged herself, and looked down. "You brought my humanity back after years and years of it being suppressed by Darken Rahl." Her eyes looked up at him. "You've freed the Mord'Sith from their constant torment and have given us the choice to serve or not. It is because of you that we can finally be who we want to be and not who we are beaten into being."

"So… you decided to serve me?" he asked, rubbing his chin, utterly confused as to who he was. Since his return to Aydindril, he had learned that as Lord Rahl, he was like some kind of prince. He was a little uncomfortable with having people in service to him. Richard had a feeling that he had always felt like that.

"Yes," Cara said. "I vowed to protect you and the Mother Confessor."

"You mean Kahlan?"

"Yes, of course," Cara shook her head. "You know… I think I liked you better before. Somehow, you seem less intelligent now." She smirked and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder before turning to leave.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Richard called after her.

Cara glanced over her shoulder and laughed. "Wait, Lord Rahl," she answered. "Wait for your wife. You have a lot to make up for… and you better be good, or we'll be having another conversation, and it won't be a pleasant one."

Richard gulped, though he highly doubted she would harm him, seeing as she had sworn to protect him. Cara closed the door behind her, and Richard turned back to the bedchambers, examining the entire place, trying to see if anything would spark his memory. But nothing seemed to work. He sighed and slumped down on the bed. It was soft, but nothing seemed familiar about it. He leaned back and rested his head on the plush pillow.

Suddenly, Richard felt very tired. He opened his mouth and yawned. Bringing his hand up to his cheek, he rubbed it again, amazed that it still tingled from her touch. Spirits, he wanted to stay awake, so that he would be able to speak with Kahlan when she came, but it had been a long day of mindlessly boring meetings. His eyelids grew heavier, and soon, without intending it, Richard had slipped into the wonderful world of sleep.

XXX

Bree braced herself. His fist came swinging out and collided with her jaw, knocking her to the bed. The Emperor immediately pounced on her, ripping her clothes. He snarled and growled like the beast he was, as he continued to beat her. But unlike the other times he had beaten her, this time she would be unable to heal herself afterwards.

She thought back to the morning, when she had arrived in the Imperial Order camp. Bree had only been walking for two or three days after giving up on her search for Cynthia and the Lord Rahl, and had been surprised to encounter Imperial Order scouts. They would have raped her, but fortunately for her they recognized her as the Emperor's whore. They took her back to Jagang, who proceeded to beat her.

Blinking and gasping as the pain from his hitting swept over her, Bree refocused her attention to the present. His big beefy hand wrapped around her neck and he glared at her with his dark storm-like eyes.

"What have you done, Sister Bree?" he raged, spittle spraying out as he roared. His fingers tightened around her neck, and he glared into her eyes.

Bree gritted her teeth and glared up at him. "I have only done what was necessary," she hissed back. "What was required!"

The Emperor released his hand from around her throat and leaned back, his barrel chest heaving. "Explain yourself, darlin!" he seethed, the anger rippling off him.

Rubbing her hands over her sore neck, Bree sat up, not bothering to cover herself. "I have placed Cynthia with the Lord Rahl," she said.

"Then where is the Mother Confessor!" the Emperor growled. "Where is my prize of prizes?"

Bree averted her eyes. "She got away."

"What!" he snapped. "You took one of my slaves away in able to capture the Mother Confessor, only to then lose both of them." He growled and huffed. "I should have taken that Cynthia woman when I had the chance." Jagang leaned closer to her, pinning her against the mattress. Outside the wind picked up and the canvas blew slightly. It was almost as if the storm in his eyes was also manifesting itself outside.

His fingers ran down her face, his eyes scanning her as she breathed. "I'm sorry, darlin," he murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you so. You are my favorite, you know that, don't you?"

Bree rolled her eyes and huffed. He always said that, but he never stopped hurting her. His fingers drifted down her neck and he groped at her breasts. "Well, if I don't have my prize of prizes," he smirked. "Then I can have my favorite, yes?"

"If you must," she snapped back. "There is little I can do to stop you."

He laughed, and his mirth seemed to rumble through the mattress. "So, it is true then," he said, playing with her flesh.

"What?"

"You've lost your abilities," he purred in his deep voice.

"As have you,  _my lord_ ," she quipped back.

The Emperor growled and his hand shot up, clenching around her throat again. He moved over her and his other hand, pulled her legs apart. Bree gulped, suddenly wishing she had not upset him as much. She knew she could not stop him from taking her, but making him angry would only make it worse. She could tell by the glint in his eye that he was going to be rough with her. No doubt, she would bleed for a couple days after this.

Bree cried out as she felt him shove himself inside her. In the past, she had been prepared and had been moist down there. But not this night. She did not have the time to mentally prepare herself. It hurt much more than any other time he had taken her. It was a sheering tearing pain that felt like being ripped in two. She closed her eyes as warm tears ran down her cheeks. The Emperor grunted as he moved over her, taking his pleasure.

She tried to shut out the pain, but it was difficult. Bree no longer had the magic she had before to suppress the pain. She had always used her magic to help get through these moments, but she was unable to do that now. She narrowed her eyes, and clenched her teeth. Only one person was truly to blame for this—the one who released the Chimes of Death: The Mother Confessor Kahlan Amnell.

XXX

They had just finished their discussion, and Kahlan was growing impatient. She wanted to see Richard, and speak with him. After everything that had happened, she felt the need for reconciliation with her husband… her beloved. They had only been parted for two weeks, but it felt a lifetime. Not the mention his infidelity, if she could even call it that. Cynthia looked exactly like her, so there was no way for him to know the difference, especially with the added difficulty of not having his memories.

Zedd looked like he wanted to say more, but Kahlan was not in the mood. Thankfully, Nicci stepped in and distracted the old wizard. Kahlan quickly ducked out of the council chambers and encountered the Mord'Sith Rikka.

"Mother Confessor," the Mord'Sith knelt before her. Kahlan blinked, shocked. "I beg your forgiveness."

"Rikka… rise, what are you taking about, what forgiveness?" Kahlan questioned, utterly perplexed by her friend's reaction.

Rikka stood and looked at her with her D'Haran blue eyes. "I should have known that the…," she looked down. "Well, that she was an impostor."

Kahlan placed a hand on Rikka's shoulder to calm the woman. "It's all right, Rikka," she said. "I don't blame you… I… I don't even know if I blame Richard."

Rikka inclined her head. "Really?"

"Well, maybe a little," Kahlan admitted. "That is why I must speak with him. Do you know where Cara took him?"

The Mord'Sith nodded. "To your chambers, of course."

"Of course," Kahlan echoed, giving a nod, not knowing why she felt uneasy. As Rikka took position by her side, Kahlan began the march to her chambers. Her mind reeled with the uncertainties and doubts she had. Thoughts and images of Richard with Cynthia plagued her mind, and she wondered if they had slept in their bedchambers… in their big bed.

They continued in silence and walked up the stairs. Kahlan clutched the rail, feeling a sudden dizziness sweep over her as the images of Richard entering Cynthia, his head buried in her breast. She knew that it had not gone any further than that. But still, the images seemed to penetrate her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. Rikka was right. She did blame Richard. At least, part of her did. Kahlan really needed to talk with him, to see him, to hear his side of things. It was only right that she did. She loved him… and she believed even with his memory loss, he loved her. At least she hoped he did.

"Mother Confessor?" Rikka's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Kahlan blinked and looked up, seeing the concern and worry creasing across the Mord'Sith's face. "Are you alright?"

Kahlan took a deep breath and looked around, realizing that they had arrived at her chambers. Cara was standing guard by the door, also looking worried. She came over and joined them. "Kahlan?" she placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I… I'm alright," she replied, trying to reassure her friends. "I just need to see Richard.

"Well, he's inside, waiting for you," Cara said. "Go to him."

Kahlan nodded and sighed, stepping towards the door and reaching for the latch. She opened it and quickly went inside, locking the door behind her. This was going to be a long evening, and she did not want any interruptions. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, breathing deeply through her nose to prepare herself for this. Taking in more deep breaths to calm her nerves, Kahlan turned around to look for Richard.

She paused, and blinked. There he was, asleep, on their bed. Kahlan had to remind herself to breathe. The sight of him sleeping was so breathtaking. She smiled a bit, noticing how he had fallen asleep in his clothes. Sure, they had done that a lot while they had been on their quests, but it was different now. They were married, and they had a roof over their heads and a bed to sleep in.

Slowly, Kahlan silently tiptoed across the floor, so she would not wake him. Her eyes were glued on his face, watching as his eyes moved beneath his eyelids. She gently sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering what he was dreaming about. Kahlan reached out and brushed his hair from his face, caressing his cheek affectionately. She smiled when he stirred at her touch. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

She would let him sleep. He must be tired. Spirits, she knew she was tired, as well. Kahlan sighed deeply and stood up, her hand trailed along the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes locked on his face. He was so handsome, and she missed being with him and hearing his soothing voice cooing love for her. But right now, she had to admit that it would be best to let him rest. It would not be good to have a conversation on this subject when he was not clear headed. Kahlan did not want there to be any misinterpretations or misconceptions. She wanted everything to be as clear as rain.

Kahlan reached the foot of the bed and paused, taking one last deep look at the man she loved, before darting across the room into the washroom to freshen up before going to bed.


	13. A Husband's Duties

After submerging herself in some warm water and rinsing her hair, Kahlan dried herself off and applied some of her favorite perfume, slightly hoping that Richard's olfactory senses would stimulate his memory of her and all that they had been through. Kahlan wrapped the towel around her slender form, recognizing that in a couple weeks she would be growing larger around the middle as their child grew within her. She sighed and ran her fingers over her flat stomach, willing to make that sacrifice as long as it meant she would bear Richard's child.

Kahlan exited the washroom and looked over at the bed. Richard was still sleeping. He had rolled into the middle of the bed and had sprawled out. She watched his chest move up and down as he breathed, and slowly ran her tongue over her front teeth, suddenly having the urge to pounce him and make love. Kahlan wanted so very much to feel him inside her, as they moved together, becoming one, and giving each other pleasure. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the intense and passionate wedding night they had spent in the place that was hidden. Spirits, she wanted to feel that same passion again.

Taking some more breaths to stifle the rising urges within her, Kahlan let the towel drop to the floor as she made her way over to the wardrobe. She opened it, and searched through it for her skimpiest nightgown. Finding it, she removed it from the wardrobe and slipped it over shoulders. Turning, she again lost herself in the sight of Richard sleeping on the bed. Practically skipping across the stone floor, Kahlan made her way over to the edge of her big bed.

She jumped up on it and immediately curled up next to Richard, picking up his arm and draping it over her shoulder. She scooted closer and ran a hand down the side of his face, before giving him a quick kiss on his forehead. Kahlan wished she could kiss him on the lips, but she was not yet ready to… at least not until they talked. However, in the meantime, she would like to sleep with him close by and with his arms around her.

Slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were filled with sensual and erotic images of Richard making love to her. His strong arms around her, his hands touching all her special places, and his lips kissing and tickling her flesh as their body swayed and thrived together in unison. Kahlan shivered with delight at the feelings that seemed to be flowing through her body. It was like her entire being was tingling with sensations and joys caused by his touch and love.

Suddenly Kahlan shuddered and opened her eyes, wide awake. Her cheeks flushed and she realized that she had only been sleeping for a few moments. And that her aroused state did not diminished. If anything, now that she was awake, it only intensified. Kahlan shifted onto her side and gazed over at Richard, feeling his arm tighten around her like a snake ensnaring its prey.

Kahlan took a quick breath, feeling her entire body ignite with the burning need for sexual release. Spirits, she was wet. She had to have release and she no longer wanted to talk. All she wanted was sex! And not just any kind of physical pleasure, but pleasure derived from making love to her husband… to Richard.

Panting with unhinged passion, Kahlan crawled up on Richard, unbuttoning his shirt and running her hands down his strong chest. She captured his lips in hers and moaned in his mouth as she felt his body begin to respond to her touch. She leaned back on her knees and tugged at his trousers, growling when they did not budge. Her rational mind was no longer in control, gone it was, taken over by her base animalistic need for physical contact and pleasure. She had an itch that needs a scratch and only making love to Richard was going to ease it.

Huffing, and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, Kahlan grasped for his belt buckle and began unfastening it. Her hands shook with anticipation and desire, making it difficult. She bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes, concentrating her attention on what she was doing. It took her longer than she would have liked, but eventually she managed to remove his belt. Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together and pulled at his trousers, tugging them down.

Kahlan's mouth dropped and she smiled, pleased to see that, though he was asleep, her touch still seemed to excite him. She reached out and touched him, seeking to fully arouse him so that he could fulfill his part. He stirred at her touch, and Kahlan held him in her hands, opening her mouth wide and descending on him, taking him into her mouth. She licked and sucked, kissing him, doing all she did when they had first spent the night in this bed.

Losing herself in the erotic nature of what she was doing, Kahlan was unaware that Richard was slowly beginning to wake up; her ministrations were pulling him from his slumber. Kahlan slipped him out of her mouth and wrapped her fingers around his masculinity, gently beginning to stroke him as he grew firmer and harder in her hand. As she moved closer, intent on running kisses down his length, strong hands suddenly stopped her.

Kahlan looked up and smiled, seeing Richard's warm brown eyes gazing down at her. He sat up and pulled her off him. Confused by his reaction, Kahlan grabbed for him and climbed up into his lap, tugging the top of her nightgown down a bit, exposing more of her breasts to him. Richard's eyes grew wide and his breath grew labored as he gazed upon her chest.

"Kahlan…?" he narrowed his eyes. "You are Kahlan? The real one?"

Kahlan gave a nod. "Yes," she pressed herself closer to him, raising her eyebrows seductively. "I'm your Kahlan… your wife, Richard." She ran her hand down his chest and she moved to straddle him. "Oh Richard, I've missed you so much… I need you. I need to feel you again." Kahlan parted her lips slightly and moved forward to kiss him, but he gripped her shoulders and held her back.

Gently, Richard pulled her legs away from him and lifted her off him. He placed her down next to him, and adjusted himself, hiking his trousers back up, a blush slightly manifesting itself across his cheeks. Kahlan's chest heaved as the fire inside her continued to burn with longing and need. She grabbed at him, desperate to get what she wanted. Desperate for him.

"Please, Richard?" she pleaded. "I need you… please, make love to me." She shoved her mouth to his, sucking on his lips and trying to crawl back up into his lap.

Richard pushed back and held her at arm's length. "Kahlan, what are you doing?"

Kahlan huffed and punched him in the shoulder. "I'm your wife, damnit!" she pouted. "You made a vow to worship and hold me above all others. You promised to love me for all time." She blinked. "On our wedding night, you told me that you would gladly spend your entire life making love to me and me alone. That is all I ask. Make love to me… please? I'm your wife, and I have needs. Needs that it is your duty as my husband to satisfy."

His brow wrinkled in regret. "I… I'm sorry," he said, averting his eyes. "I can't."

"What?" Kahlan had to hold back a sharp retort. "Why not?" She paused and bit her lower lip. "You do still find me attractive?"

"Of course I do," Richard said. "But, spirits, Kahlan, she said the same thing."

"Cynthia?" Kahlan lowered her brow. "You believed her, didn't you?" Her chest heaved as sobs threaten to consume her. "You… you made love to her, didn't you. You…"

"No," he grabbed her arms with his strong hands. "No, I didn't. Kahlan, I would never betray you."

"You thought she was me," Kahlan wailed as the tears erupted from her eyes. "I saw you with her. I saw your face in her breasts… I saw you enter here!"

Richard wrapped her in his arms and brushed the tears from her face in the tender way he always did when she cried. Kahlan buried her face in his chest and continued to cry, her whole body rocking with each sob. His gently soothed her and held her close.

"I stopped it, Kahlan," he tried to explain. "Before it went any further, I stopped it. I was only with her for a moment, and then… then I heard your cry. And somehow, deep down, I knew it was you and that she was not you. I ended it."

Kahlan sniffled and looked up into his eyes, sensing the truth in his words. "Then you still love me?"

"I've never doubted that, don't you start," Richard replied. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Kahlan looked away, shaking her head. He cupped her face in his hand and raised her chin. "And I mean you. Cynthia may look exactly like you physically, but your eyes," he caressed the side of her face. "Your eyes are different. I don't know how to describe… but yours have a different quality to them than hers."

"How so?" Kahlan asked, interested in hearing what he would say. Silently she hoped that some of his memories had returned.

"I don't know," he said shaking his head. "I guess I would say your eyes are more vibrant, more brilliant than hers. When I look into your eyes, I… I just want to do nothing else but lose myself in your eyes." He raked his hand through his hair, a gesture she had seen him do many times. "And spirits, Kahlan, that kiss you gave me when you returned… I've never had such a kiss."

Kahlan grinned sheepishly. "Oh yes you have, you just don't remember it," she said.

Richard raised his eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes," she leaned forward wanting to kiss him again. Richard stopped her and Kahlan frowned, growing impatient. She thought they had gotten passed this. She punched him in the shoulder and scowled up at him. "Do not tease me like that, Richard. If you are unwilling to back up such statements, then don't say them."

"But I can only say what I feel," Richard protested.

He grabbed her arm when she made another move to strike him. Kahlan lowered her brow and tried to pull her arm away, but his hold was too strong. She lashed out with her other hand, but he gripped that one, as well, and held her firm. Kahlan struggled, but to no avail. Her aroused feelings were being rapidly replaced with feelings of anger and betrayal as she remembered everything she had seen Richard do with Cynthia. It made everything he said now seem like lies.

"Let go of me!" she snapped.

He complied, and she leaned back. Her chest heaved up and down as she seethed with vexation. How could he deny her? His wife? He had willingly gone along with Cynthia, so why not her? The real Kahlan. Richard adjusted himself to a sitting positioned. Kahlan huffed, and moved, as well, sitting cross-legged across from him.

"What's the matter, Kahlan?" Richard questioned, his voice sounding confused and concerned.

"What's the matter?" she repeated, almost spitting it out in irritation at his question. "Spirits, everything is the matter, Richard!"

Richard knitted his eyebrows together, and gave a nod, looking down. "That is something we can agree on, Kahlan," he said.

Kahlan blinked. "What?"

"I said we could agree on that," he repeated.

Kahlan slumped down and sighed. Spirits, her emotions were jumping all over the place. First she had been aroused, then she was angry, and now she was feeling depressed and sad. She looked up at him with big eyes, near tears.

"I… I feel like everything I cherish most in this life is being wrenched away from me," Kahlan sniffled, and held back a sob. She folded her hands in front of her, looking down. "First you lose your memories. Then you're taken from me. And… and then I see you with…," she took a deep breath and looked up at him with a glare. "And then I saw you with that woman! Spirits, you've probably been with her countless times since I last saw you."

Richard reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Just the feel of his hand on her helped to stifle her sobbing. She blinked, and gazed up at him longingly. "I've told you, Kahlan," he said. "And you must believe me. I did not betray you. Yes," he admitted. "I may have been inside her, but only for a short time. As I said before, I ended it when I heard you cry out. I never found release. You must believe me."

Kahlan sniffled and gave a slight nod as he continued to caress her cheek. She looked up into his eyes and saw regret and worry reflecting back at her.

"When was the switch? When were you taken and replaced with Cynthia?" he asked.

Kahlan adjusted herself and took a breath, closing her eyes and remembering being abducted. She opened her eyes and looked up at Richard, taking his hand in hers and holding it in front of her, fiddling with his fingers. "Remember when we dashed through the rain to find shelter?"

He nodded, his warm brown eyes seeming to reflect back the same longing she felt. Kahlan licked her lips and continued. "When I went to retrieve our pack… that was when Cynthia replaced me," she said. "When I left you there, that was the last time I saw you, until earlier today in the council chamber…" she narrowed her eyes and averted her gaze, not wanting him to see her distress and grief, "when you were kissing her."

Richard took a deep breath and pulled her hands up, holding them to his chest, just above his heart. "I'm sorry, Kahlan," he said. "I wish you were the one that came back." He looked away for a moment and furrowed his brow, as he thought. "Though, I guess somehow I knew. I could sense the difference, but… damn! How could I—" He left the rest unsaid, which Kahlan was okay with; she had already heard more than she cared to remember.

Her heart began to pound in her chest again, as her entire being begun to demand attention. It was fueled by her desire to become one with Richard. Kahlan sprang forth and rammed her mouth against his. His eyes grew wide and she was pleased when he did not resist. His hands shot up and he ran his fingers through her hair, and she giggled, recognizing the sensations of his touch. Slowly she looped her arms around his middle and continued kissing him. She moved her lips over his in a tender loving way, milking in the entire experiencing, wanting it to last as long as possible.

Eventually they had to break away to breathe. Richard reached up and brushed her hair from her face and smiled. "I may not remember anything but the last couple weeks," he said. "But I can assure you, that I never meant to betray you or the vow I made when I married you." He held up his hand and showed her. "I never took it off."

Kahlan beamed when the gold glimmered in the candlelight. She grabbed his hand and smiled up at him, staring at his wedding band. "Then you still consider yourself my husband… and me, your wife?"

"Always," Richard replied. He raised his hand and tenderly caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and eased into her touch, feeling her body warm with desire.

She gasped and opened her eyes. "Richard…," Kahlan grabbed his hands in hers. "I need to tell you something."

"Yes, what is it?" Richard inquired.

Kahlan took his hands and placed them over her flat stomach. She took a deep breath, preparing to give him the news, and looked deep into his eyes. "I'm with child," she said.

Richard narrowed his eyes and his eyebrows shot up. His jaw dropped and his eyes darted up to met hers. "When?"

"Most likely… on our wedding night," Kahlan answered, wrinkling her brow, worried over his reaction.

A broad fierce smile spread across his face and he hugged her. Kahlan sighed with relief, as Richard leaned back and cupped her face in his hands. "Thank you, Kahlan," he said, staring into her eyes.

She knitted her eyebrows. "For what?" In truth, she really did not care. Kahlan was presently too thrilled with his hands on her face to think of anything else.

Richard leaned in close until their lips were inches apart. "For giving me a reason to fight for my memories," he whispered, dropping one hand down to lovingly caress her stomach. "To fight for our child." And then he closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, kissing her deeply.

Kahlan eased into him, and closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of the man she loved pressing against her. Slowly, he began to push her down to the bed. Taking a deep breath and blinking, she looked up at him. "Are you going to make love to me?" she asked hopefully, feeling her cheeks flush with anticipation. Kahlan had wanted this from the moment she saw him gawking at her in the council chambers.

Richard rested his forehead against hers, and tenderly rubbed her arm with an affection that seemed to come from his knowledge of her and how to please her. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers, nibbling at her, as his hand drifted down from her arm to her thigh. His fingers danced across her skin and he pushed the hem of her nightgown up. Kahlan moaned when his fingers ran up her leg and made contact with her femininity.

"Oh, Richard…," she purred.

"Kahlan," he cooed back, continuing to kiss her. His hand continued to play across her special place. He ran a finger across her and caressed her quivering flesh with his thumb, before bringing his fingers further down to explore the folds of her womanhood.

Her mouth dropped and she let out a gasp when she felt his finger push pass her folds, touching her core.

Their eyes locked and for a moment, just for a moment, it was like his memories had been returned. Kahlan gazed up into his warm brown eyes and shuddered with ecstasy as she felt his fingers move around inside her, making her warmer and wetter. Her breath started to become labored and she opened her mouth for Richard as he came back down to kiss her. Their tongues met and the heat of their kiss exploded in a rapture unlike any other.

Kahlan wanted to spat a curse at him when he removed his fingers, but his mouth was still on hers and his kiss was still too wonderful to complain. Just the fact that he was touching her again was making all her doubts fall away. He was her husband and the father of the child growing within her. Spirits, how she wanted to feel him again.

Richard backed up and exhaled. The feel of his warm breath tickling across her skin sent shivers of delight down her spine. Richard's hand came up and he ran his finger along her velvety lower lip. Kahlan caught her breath and opened her mouth, allowing him to slip his finger inside. Locking eyes with him, Kahlan encircled her lips around his finger and sucked on it, realizing that the sweet taste that met her tongue was herself.

He slowly withdrew his fingers and ran his hand down her body, stopping to fondle her breast and tease her nipple with a thumb. Richard leaned forward to kiss her neck. Kahlan arched her back and her breath turned into pants as he began to nibble playfully at the supple flesh between her neck and shoulder. Spirits, she loved how he had kissed her like this before. His other hand joined in on the fun, and began rubbing her thigh, as the first continued massaging her breast.

Kahlan gasped and closed her eyes, shivering with delight at his touch. She always loved how he touched her, and the feelings and sensations he stirred within her. When they had first met, she had tried to deny those feelings, but it was futile. Richard had never surrendered to the overwhelming odds against them. And now it was Kahlan's turn to do the same, to not surrender to the almost irrepressible forces that seemed to be fighting against them. She would never give Richard up. Never. She loved him too much to lose him.

Richard eased away from her and Kahlan arched her neck to watch as he tugged at his trousers, pulling them down. It had been too long since they had been together, that her desire was pulsating through her veins with such a force that she was afraid she would pass out from the sheer exhilaration of it.

"Yes," she panted, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Yes… Richard. Oh, yes."

Richard crawled up and rested himself between her legs, as she spread them for him, inviting him in. She would always accept him. His hand drifted down to rub her thigh, causing her churning rippling need for him to coalesce between her legs. His other hand came up and gripped the side of her face. He looked into her eyes, and adjusted himself, gently moving his hips closer to her femininity. Kahlan parted her lips when she felt him brush against her folds and she stared up into his eyes.

She ran her fingers down his back and she gripped the firm muscles of his backside in her hands. "Take me!" she moaned. "Take me!"

Richard cupped her face in his palm and leaned down to kiss her. She arched her neck and pushed back into him, relishing the feel of his lips on hers. His other hand continued caressing her thigh, as he guided her legs further apart and he gently pushed forward. Kahlan shuddered with exquisite pleasure when she felt Richard enter her. Her eyes closed and she parted her lips, panting, as he gently began thrusting back a forth.

She moaned his name as he continued moving inside of her. Flushing with a rush of sensations and tingling feelings, Kahlan felt euphoria. Richard lowered his mouth on her supple skin, kissing and licking at the flesh between her neck and shoulder. His hands roamed her body, and she allowed her hands to wander him.

Their bodies intertwined and became one. Thriving and pulsating against one another, Kahlan giggled with delight as she felt the bliss of becoming one with Richard. The thoughts and feelings began to consume her. It was not like their previous times together, because she did not feel her powers rising up inside her. There was no threshold to reach for her powers this time. It was a different kind of storm. A storm of uninhibited pleasure that rippled through her core and pulled at her, pleading for release… telling her to let go.

Kahlan groaned and pushed at Richard, spinning around on him, moving up on top of him as he eased down on to his back. She placed her hands on his chest as she bucked her hips wildly. His hands rested on her hips and he helped to keep them from separating. She continued to move over him, feeling new heights of pleasure that she had never felt before. Her powers had always seized control, but now, with the Chimes loose, Kahlan was free to experience the same pleasure and rapture that normal women felt. This time her powers would not get in her way from experiencing the joy and ecstasy that came from being with Richard. This time, she could extend their lovemaking to new heights.

She gasped and moaned; Kahlan had never known it could be like this. It was so… so intense and overwhelming. Richard's hands dug into the soft flesh of her rear, and he pulled her to him, shifting them around until he was once again on top. One hand gripped her leg, holding it up against his chest, as he stroked back and forth. His head rolled back and she could her him grunt and groan in physical pleasure. While he moved, his other hand helped to hold her steady. His thrusts were so great that he was quite literally rocking her world and she felt compelled to dig her fingers into the mattress for support. But it was hard to keep focus on anything else. With each thrust, Richard was sending waves upon waves of exquisite pleasure rippling through her body.

Eventually he let her leg down, and he lowered himself on her, pushing her nightgown up even more so that his mouth could suck on her exposed breasts. Kahlan pushed up into him, and raked her fingers through his thick brown hair, pleading with him in a breathless voice to continue. Richard obliged her, and his tongue darted around running circles around her nipples. She groaned and felt bursts of delight and ecstasy explode throughout her body.

When their mouths finally met each other again, Kahlan knew she was close to release. Her body was becoming numb with the overload of input she was receiving, and her mind was finding it difficult to concentrate as her endorphins collided with one another. She clenched her legs around Richard's middle as she felt her inner muscles began to tighten around his hardness, seeking to pull him in as deep as possible.

She felt him tense over her, and he captured her mouth in his, giving her a slobbery yet passionate and gratifying kiss, as he released inside her. Kahlan suddenly felt a feeling that she could only describe as similar to the release of her powers, as her whole body seemed to tense, every muscle flexing, as a wave of indescribable rapture soared over her body. She was completely unprepared for the orgasmic bliss that came with her climax. Though he had reached his release, Richard was still hard and he continued moving within her. His eyes telling her that he wanted to please her, like she had pleased him.

And then it came, the rolling wave her climax. Kahlan had never felt sexual release while not at the same time loosing control of her confessing powers. The feeling was hard to describe, but she liked it. With her powers, she would temporarily black out for a moment, overwhelmed by the combination of both her powers and sexual release, but this time, she was aware of it all. Her muscles clenched and her mouth involuntarily dropped as her entire body squirmed with ecstasy.

Richard stopped his motions and pressed himself against her. His lips descended up shoulder and Kahlan could feel them curl into a smile, as he felt her release soaking the bed sheets beneath them. Kahlan was left stunned and overwhelmed. She had never had a release like this before; it was so intense and powerful, that it left her numb.

"Richard…," she managed to gasp his name, as her eyes rolled back into her head at the peak of her climax before descending into the euphoria of its aftermath.

She hugged him, running her hands through his hair and down his back. Richard continued kissing her, his wet lips running up her neck and across her jaw line, searching for her lips. And then, with a sudden jerk, he stopped. He groaned and blinked, shaking his head. Kahlan grew worried that something had happened to him as a result of the Chimes's involvement in the world of the living, but when his eyes then opened, she could not help but stare into their depths.

"Kahlan?" his voice held a note of recognition to it. "Spirits, Kahlan…" a smile of relief spread across his face. "You're all right. You're safe!" His brow furrowed and he looked around, noticing that he was pressing most of his weight against her. He shifted, easing off a bit, but still staying inside her. He gazed back down at her and he took a quick breath, narrowing his eyes. "Kahlan, what's going on? What's happening?"


	14. Partially Returned

It was all very strange. The three of them had arrived to watch mother and father, after all they had been the ones to bring them into this world. Father had been dying, and mother had called them into the world to heal him. Now they watched, confused as to what mother was doing to father.

They watched with curiosity as she took him in her mouth and began sucking on him. The three of them were not at all surprise when this caused father to wake. Then mother and father spoke for a while, discussing things that they did not understand. Mother appeared to be an emotional wreck, she kept crying. Then she took father's hands in hers and placed them over her stomach. She said something that made father beam. The three of them were perplexed over father's reaction. He grabbed mother's face and soon the two of them were sucking on each other's faces. This greatly confused them. Humans were, indeed, strange creatures.

The next thing that happened was extremely baffling. They did not understand what they were witnessing. Father crawled up on mother and began pressing himself against her, pulling her legs apart. His hands moved all over her, making mother groan and moan. At first, judging from the sounds that came issuing out of her mouth, they thought that he was harming her, that they were fighting. But they had seen humans fight before, and this did not look like a fight. For one thing, mother seemed to be enjoying herself.

In a flash, mother had spun father around and pinned him to the bed. She bucked wildly over him, all the while groaning and moaning. The three of them were beginning to understand. The sounds coming from mother were not the sounds of pain, but of pleasure. This was what physical beings called the act of love. It pleased them that mother and father loved one another, even with what they had done to father. It had been Sentrosi's idea to fog his mind, but now that they were seeing how much mother loved father, they felt guilty.

They giggled at their delight. Oh what fun this was. They spun around mother and father, watching as he again took control of their lovemaking, moving over her. Mother seemed beyond joy, in a state of nirvana. Sentrosi, who loved the heated passion, made a suggestion that she believed would please mother. The other two agreed, liking the idea. As they giggled and danced around the two intertwined figures of mother and father, they called forth their powers and homed in on father's mind. They would restore some of which they had sealed away, not all of it, but some. And the bits they would release back into his consciousness would please mother. And at that thought, the three sisters squealed with joy.

XXX

For a moment the flames on the candlewicks rose, engrossed on some unseen fuel, before returning to normal. Richard jerked and he closed his eyes, grunting slightly. When he opened his eyes again, he looked down on her with an undying love she had not seen before. Sure, he had shown her some love, but nothing like this. This was something that held meaning to it. Kahlan held her breath and waited.

"Kahlan?" his voice held a note of recognition to it. "Spirits, Kahlan…" a smile of relief spread across his face. "You're all right. You're safe!" His brow furrowed and he looked around, noticing that he was pressing most of his weight against her. He shifted, easing off a bit, but still staying inside her. He gazed back down at her and he took a quick breath, narrowing his eyes. "Kahlan, what's going on? What's happening?"

Kahlan's eyes grew wide and she finally took a breath. "Richard?" she furrowed her brow, startled. "Don't you remember? We… we just made love…"

Richard nodded. "Yes, I remember that," he smiled and leaned down, pulling her into a deep kiss. He backed away and caressed her face, brushing away her damp hair, still slick with the sweat of their passionate lovemaking. "But I remember more as well."

"What?" Kahlan gasped. She was still recovering from their lovemaking, but this latest development seemed to have some potential to it. "Do… do you remember me?"

Richard lowered his brow, and smiled. "Of course I do," he said, as if she was crazy to even think he could forget her. "You are Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands… but more importantly, you are my wife."

She shook her head. "That does not answer my question, Richard," Kahlan said, shifting beneath him. "Anything else?"

He blinked and narrowed his eyes. "I…," he shook his head and frowned. "Nothing." He pushed back, slipping out of her and resting down beside her.

"Richard?" she shifted, turning on to her side to look at him. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's all right… don't push yourself."

Richard took a deep breath through his nostrils and squinted up at the ceiling. He adjusted himself onto his side and his brown eyes scanned her face. "I don't know what happened, but for a moment I remembered everything," he said, looking off into space. His eyes darted back to her and he smiled. "Not all of it is gone. I still don't remember who I am, but I know you." His hand came up and he caressed her face tenderly. "I remember you, Kahlan. I remember the first time I saw your beautiful eyes glaring at me after I rescued you…," he looked away, "from what, I can't remember. But I remember that moment, when our eyes met for the first time. I knew at that very instant that I had found my soul mate; the woman I would love and do anything for, sacrifice anything to be with." He paused and inched closer. "You. Kahlan. It's always been you."

Kahlan swallowed past a lump in her throat, thrilled to hear this. He remembered her! Richard may not remember anything else, but at least he remembered  _her_. He looked at her with a curious expression for a second and then his eyebrows rose, his expression changing from one of worry to one of pure joy.

"Kahlan," his eyes ran over her, "you… you're with child!" Richard beamed. He grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. Kahlan closed her eyes and lost herself in the kiss, relishing the feelings it stirred in her heart. "And I now remember how much that means to you… to us." His hand drifted down to the crystal hanging around her neck. "But how? I have a vague feeling that this was meant to stop us from conceiving."

Kahlan was still swooning over his kiss, it had been so much like the ones he had often surprised her with during their quest for the Stone of Tears. Catching her breath, and gazing up into his sure eyes, she took his hand in hers. "Do you remember returning to me, almost a month ago, dying?"

He nodded. "I remember that, but I can't seem to remember why I was dying."

"Well, to save you I had to say three words," Kahlan explained. "And those three words turned out to be the names of these beings created by the wizards of old during the Great War three thousand years ago. Apparently they would only heal you if spoken aloud by someone who loved you… and who you loved back. And it… it seems that they feed on the magic in the world, bleeding it away from us. They're called the Chimes. And, well… and it appears that they had already been at work while we were on our honeymoon."

Richard smiled. "Now  _that_  I remember," he inched closer to her and rubbed his nose against hers. "You did that little dance for me before we made love, wanting to be… how did you say it, sexy?"

"You remember that?" Kahlan's eyes grew wide with hope.

Richard nodded. "Vividly," he trailed his fingers down her until they came to rest on her stomach. "When I think, and try and recall my memories from before that day I woke up in the rain, all I can remember is you… my Kahlan." He pushed forward and kissed her.

Kahlan closed her eyes, loving this. Somehow, making love to her had brought back his memories of her. She did not know how or why it happened, but at the moment, she did not care. All she cared about was that her husband, the man she loved more than life itself, remembered her. Breaking away to breathe, Kahlan rested her head on his chest as they curled up together on the bed.

Richard hugged her and chuckled, finding something amusing.

"What's so funny?" Kahlan questioned, arching her neck to look up at him.

"Out of all the times we've made love," he spoke softly, almost in a purr. "You've never had a release that powerful."

Kahlan ran circles around his chest with her fingers, and pursed her lips. "It's because I didn't have my powers to take control of the moment when being with you becomes pure rapture," she replied, then narrowed her eyes. "Was it really that strong?"

Richard shifted, pulling her up and directing her gaze to the spot on the bedding that was darker than the rest. "You see that soaked spot on the sheets?"

Kahlan nodded.

"Well," Richard murmured into her ear. "That's the result of your release."

Kahlan blushed, wondering if she left evidence like that behind every time Richard and her were together. Seeming to sense her thoughts, as he often did, Richard chuckled and ran his hand down her back, tickling her spine.

"Don't be embarrassed, Kahlan," his breath was so close to her neck that she felt herself flushing with heated arousal all over again. "I like it. It's proof that I pleased you."

Kahlan turned and looked up at him, parting her lips slightly as his mouth descended upon her neck, kissing her. "Richard, you always please me," she murmured.

Richard continued to kiss her neck. "Oh, Kahlan," he purred. "I'm so glad I have my memories of you again. I can't live without you. You are my world! And I love you… always and forever!"

His lips danced up her neck until their mouths met and they shared a long intimate kiss that spoke volumes to the memories that had been restored to her love. It was clear he was remembering things. The way his fingers touched her shoulder and body as he kissed was reminiscent of the other times they had been together. Granted, she had only really been with him—truly with him—once… well to be honest, multiple times, during their honeymoon. The only other time, beside moments ago, that they had made love was when she had endured, what she had thought at the time, was Darken Rahl consummating a forced marriage, when in reality it was Richard.

Richard backed away and rested alongside her, tenderly running his fingers in circles around her belly. "We're going to have a child," he murmured softly, his eyes looking up at her. "I hope she looks just like her mother."

Kahlan smiled and inched closer to him. "Well, I hope she has you're eyes."

"My eyes?" Richard raised his eyebrows. "I want her to have you're eyes."

"No, your eyes and hair," she said. "She has to look like you!"

Richard chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. Kahlan sighed with relief and joy, finally having her husband restored to her. She felt a little selfish, that she cared more about him remembering her and not anything else, but why shouldn't she? They had been through so much, and experience such anguish and heartache before they could finally be together. Didn't they deserve some peace, some reward for all the sacrifices they had made?

Suddenly feeling very tired, but not wanting to be, Kahlan yawned. Richard adjusted them and turned her onto her side. Kahlan had difficultly keeping her eyes open, but was aware enough to feel him pull her back to his chest. His arm looped over her and she could feel his hand rest on her stomach. He nuzzled the nape of her neck and kissed her skin, sending shivers running down her spine.

"Sleep, my beautiful Kahlan," Richard whispered into her ear before kissing her neck again. "Sleep."

Kahlan sighed, relenting to his suggestion. As long as his arms were around her, she could sleep. His love was all she cared about.

XXX

Sister Bree sat at the table, glaring across at the Emperor as he dug his fingers into some black bread. He tore it into pieces and sprinkled some bits onto a platter. She watched as he sliced up a pear and some other fruit, placing them on the platter, as well.

"Cheese?" he asked.

Bree inclined her head. The Emperor picked up a block of white cheese and cut a chunk off, adding it to the pile of food. When he was done, he shifted and placed the full platter in front of her.

"Eat, darlin," he purred. "You'll need to regain your strength."

Bree narrowed her eyes at him, hating him, but complied and began nibbling at the food he offered her. He laughed boisterously and slammed his fist into the table, making it bounce. As she delicate ate her breakfast, she watched as the Emperor dove into his breakfast like an animal, tearing meat off a thighbone and stuffing his mouth of bread and cheese. She looked away when the grease from the cooked meat began running down his chin and onto his barrel chest.

In many ways the Emperor was a pig, granted a buff and extremely strong pig, but a pig nonetheless. He had been rough with her last night, and the day's travel had been long and boring. She had managed to get some sleep during the journey, seeing as how she could not walk nor ride, thanks to his gruff mistreatment of her, so she had been allowed to ride in one of the wagons.

From what she had overheard, they were closing in on Aydindril, and the siege of that city would begin soon. She was looking forward to that, hoping that when the siege began, the Emperor's mind would be on other things instead of bedding her. She still had use of her subtractive magic, so she could use that to help in the assault. What had surprise her the most was learning how the Emperor did not seem to mind the loss of his dreamwalker powers. Though, she understood that more now. He had a massive army of followers who obeyed him, not because he was a dreamwalker, but because he was the Emperor of the Imperial Order.

"I have wonderful news, my sweet," the Emperor spat out as he chewed his food. She looked up and waited for him to continue, doubting the news would be that wonderful. "We're approaching Aydindril," he said, looking at her curiously and grinned. "I see you already know this."

"Your men talk too much," she answered, reaching for a goblet of water. She took a delicate sip and kept her green eyes locked on the Emperor.

"Indeed," the Emperor guffawed. "I would think you would be pleased." He held up a goblet to the side and one of the servant girls rushed to fill it. He took a long deep draft, eyeing her with his dark storm-like eyes. "Well, Sister Bree?" he inquired. "Aren't you going to say something?"

Bree pursed her lips and set her cup down, glaring across the table at him. "What would you like me to say, my lord?" she asked. "That I'm happy? Or thrilled?"

The Emperor stood and slammed his fist against the table, causing everyone in the room to jump. "That you'd show me some respect!" he roared. "I've put up with your stubbornness for too long!" He sat back down and huffed.

She found his outburst amusing, but she kept her expression blank and hid her emotions. The Emperor growled and continued eating. Bree took another delicate sip of her water and watched him, knowing full well that his foul mood would result in a rough night for her. Perhaps it would be wiser to placate him.

"Very well," Bree spoke up, leaning forward and placing her cup down. "I have knowledge of this region. Perhaps I could assist you in selecting where to advance."

The Emperor lowered his brow and ran his tongue across his front teeth. He looked at her for a moment and frowned. "You wish to help?" he asked, dubiously. "That is very out of character for you. Why the sudden change, darlin?"

Bree bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes. "I have unfinished business with the Mother Confessor and a certain former Sister of the Dark… who betrayed me."

He smiled. "Sister Nicci, no doubt," he said, raising an eyebrow. He lowered his voice to a deep growl. "She is certainly a very tasty looking woman. Perhaps I could help you with your vengeance towards her."

Bree knitted her eyebrows together. "You wish to ravage her?" she asked.

The Emperor grinned wickedly. "Ravage is hardly the word I'd choose, but yes," he nodded. He licked his lips. "But the Mother Confessor… now she's the prize I'm really after. Just think how powerful a child of confessor and dreamwalker blood would be. The child could be molded to our thinking. Our righteous cause will be won, and no one would be able to stand in our way."

"Very well," Bree nodded. "You may do with the Mother Confessor as you wish… as long as I get to be the one that ends Nicci's life."

The Emperor smiled and inclined his head. "After she has proven a worthy whore for me and my men, she shall be yours."

Bree smiled, and lowered her brow, committing herself. "Then I shall be very grateful, my lord," she said, slipping off her seat and crawling under the table. She sought out the Emperor and pleased him with her mouth.

XXX

The sunlight filtered through the window, stirring her from her sleep. A small lazy smile spread across her lips as she remembered the pleasures of last night. She made a move to shift, but was prevented when an arm curled around her, pulling her closer. A light airy giggle escaped her lips when she felt his warm kisses on the nape of her neck.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, releasing her and allowing her to shift around to gaze upon his features.

Kahlan furrowed her brow.  _Was this a dream?_  She raised a hand to touch his face and smiled when she felt his cheek warm at her touch. His warm brown eyes gazed down into hers and he leaned down to kiss her.

"Good morning, Kahlan," he murmured softly, resting his forehead against hers. They took a moment's pause and shared a breath before sitting up.

Richard eased off the bed and found his black tunic. He pulled it up over his shoulders and looked around for his trousers. Kahlan giggled as she watched him get dressed, loving the sight of his bare backside. Richard looked over his shoulder and grinned.

"See anything you like, Mother Confessor?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with the playfulness that always seemed to come to him after they spent the night together.

"Oh yes," she replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively and winking at him.

Kahlan squirmed around and stretched her arms, sitting up. She brushed her hair back and slipped off the bed. Practically dancing across the stone floor to the wardrobe, Kahlan felt better than she had in many days. She gathered that waking up in the arms of the one you loved had that effect. Opening the wardrobe, she scanned the dresses inside, looking for the one she knew Richard liked the most. Finding it, Kahlan reached in and withdrew it.

She jumped and let out a yelp when she felt strong arms snake around her middle, but then she smelled his scent. Kahlan arched her neck to look back at him, seeing him grinning. He leaned forward and brushed one of the straps, holding up her nightgown, down her shoulder, before kissing her exposed skin softly. Kahlan closed her eyes and eased her back into his hold. His other hand came up and he removed the other strap.

Her nightgown slipped down, and Kahlan turned around and placed her hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes. Richard's hands rested on her shoulders and he stared back into her eyes as he began pushing her nightgown all the way down. His fingers brushed across the skin that became exposed as the nightgown fell away. His hands stopped on her bottom and he gave her a playful squeeze.

Kahlan stepped over the tumbled pile of the nightgown and gasped as she felt his hands trace up her thighs. Richard lowered onto his knees and rested his hands on her hips. He leaned his head against her stomach, pressing his ear to her skin. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, as he moved to kiss her navel.

"Our child," she heard him murmur softly, his breath touching her flesh.

Richard tilted his head up and gazed up at her, his fingers tenderly caressing her hips. Slowly, he stood up and embraced her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her deeply. Kahlan eased into him, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his hard masculine body against her soft feminine body. They broke their kiss and rested their foreheads against one another, filling their lungs with air in unison.

"I cannot tell you how overjoyed I am to have my memories of you back, Kahlan," Richard murmured. "Perhaps in time the rest of them will return."

Kahlan nodded, knitting her eyebrows together in worry. "And if they don't?"

"Then at least I'll have you," he said, smiling, and running one hand down to her stomach. "And our child."

Kahlan returned his smile. "Don't worry, Richard," she said, trying to reassure him. "Maybe Zedd or Nicci will have some thoughts on how your memories of me returned. I'm sure they can help."

Richard gave a nod and leaned forward to kiss her again. Kahlan closed her eyes and relished the feel of his lips dancing across hers. When he pulled back, he gave her a big playful smile. "Now, let's get you dressed."


	15. Morning Tasks

Cynthia woke early, like she had done for the past two weeks since her true identity was discovered. She got up from her small bed and stretched. Throughout her entire life she had slept in many beds, but none had seemed as comfortable as this one, not even the Mother Confessor's big bed. It had never felt right, sleeping in  _that_  bed, knowing whose bed it really was, and how she—a farm girl from the Old World—had come to sleep in it. Now, the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor shared that bed, as it was meant to be.

And from the gossip she heard around the palace, the Mother Confessor was with child. But that was just palace gossip amongst the serving staff, though Cynthia would not have been surprised if it were true, considering all the "wrestling" the Mother Confessor and Lord Rahl did during the evening. They thought they were being discreet, but it was hard not to hear the moaning wails of pleasure coming from the Mother Confessor when you slept just down the hall.

Slipping off the bed, Cynthia pulled her nightgown over her head and changed into a servant's gown that Ruthy had loaned her. The young maidservant had been kind, as well, and showed no ill will towards her for her past deception. In fact, no one in the Confessor's Palace showed her any animosity. For the first couple of days, Cynthia wondered why they did that, but then she assumed that everyone was just following the Mother Confessor's orders, when she had decreed that Cynthia was not to be harmed or punished.

If anything, she had been treated extremely well. She had been given a room in the palace, instead of a cell in the dungeons, and was treated just like everyone else. The fact that she was actually given a room with a bed was greatly appreciated. Cynthia actually found herself enjoying the menial tasks assigned to her. The Mother Confessor had been very kind and had even made her one of her handmaidens. In fact, her room was adjacent to Ruthy's, and just a couple of doors down was the bedchambers of the Mother Confessor and Lord Rahl.

Cynthia turned to the washbowl, and splashed the lukewarm water over her face. She picked up a cloth and dried her face. She found the blue ribbon she often used and pulled her hair back, tying it into a ponytail. After finishing her other preparations, she left her room to begin her assignments. Today was a Friday, so it was going to be her duty to help assist the Mother Confessor. She stepped quickly down the hall and nodded a greeting to some passing maidservants, whom she had gotten to know. She approached the servant's entrance, where Rikka was standing guard. The Mord'Sith smiled and opened the door for her.

The preparation room was a mess, with clothing thrown all over the place. Cynthia groaned inwardly, as she began picking up the loose pile of clothing and folding them up. The Mother Confessor would be here in a thirty minutes, and she had to have everything ready. As she shifted through the clothing, she noticed that not all of it was the Mother Confessor's. Some of it was clearly that of the Lord Rahl. Cynthia recognized the black trousers and tunics. She bit her lower lip, and continued. Then a sound came drifting through the air that made her freeze.

Her ears perked up, and she stood up, looking around. Was she too early? No, she shook her head. If she were early, Rikka would not have allowed her into the preparation room. Cynthia tiptoed across the floor and peeked through the door into the bedchambers. She caught her breath at the sight she saw. The Mother Confessor was laying flat on the floor, with her legs spread wide as the Lord Rahl moved over her. With each downward thrust, the Mother Confessor would arch her neck back and moan softly. From where she was spying on them, Cynthia could clearly see the Lord Rahl's hardness plunge in and out of the moist wetness that was the Mother Confessor, as his hands tenderly caressed her legs and thighs.

Cynthia's cheeks flushed and she quickly turned away, feeling guilty to have caught a glimpse of the love that the two shared. It was painfully obvious that something had occurred to bring back the Lord Rahl's memories of the Mother Confessor. Cynthia had heard them discussing that development two weeks ago with the First Wizard and the Sorceress. No one seemed to know why or how it happened, but they were pleased all the same. Cynthia was glad, herself. In a way, now that the Lord Rahl remembered the Mother Confessor, she felt that perhaps the Creator had forgiven some of what she had done.

She went back to her task of cleaning the preparation room. However, Cynthia could not help but hear every gasp and moan that came from the other room. Her ears reddened, and she tried to be deaf to them, but it was impossible. She felt just as guilty knowing how close she had come to being on the receiving end of the same pleasure that it was obvious the Mother Confessor derived from feeling the Lord Rahl inside her. She had been so close to fully seducing Richard Rahl, that part of her had wished she had felt it all, now hearing the rapture that it caused.

But most of her was glad she did not, knowing that later she would have regretted such actions, considering them a betrayal of the love she had for her dead husband. That was not something Cynthia ever wanted to do. And being with the Lord Rahl was something she had had control over, so it would have been nothing more than a betrayal. When she was with the Wizard Neville, or the others of the Imperial Order, that had been against her will. It had been rape. So she hoped, when she met her husband in the Underworld, he would not hold any of those times against her.

Pondering this, along with other things, Cynthia remembered the first and, sadly, only time that her husband Jared had made love to her in such a fashion as the Lord Rahl was currently making love to the Mother Confessor. When Jared had first entered her, she had felt a dull pain, but it soon vanished, replaced by the pleasure of being with the man she loved. Jared had released first, but he stayed hard inside her as he brought her to climax. Then, just as she reached release and cried his name in ecstasy, the soldiers of the Imperial Order burst into their room, and destroyed the future she had been hoping for.

Before she knew it, Cynthia had ceased her task, and was slumped on the floor, sobbing over the loss of her husband and the future that had been stolen from her. She would never get to have the joy of feeling her husband's seed quicken within her and create life. She would never be able to bear a child to her Jared. He was dead, and there was no way to have him returned to her. The only way she would ever see him again was when she died and went to the Underworld.

Cynthia sniffled and sat up, suddenly realizing that it had become silent. The Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl must be done. She did not know how long the two had been at it, but it felt like an eternity. She looked out the window, and judged that about an hour had passed since she had entered the room and caught sight of the two making love. She heard the hinges of the door squeak, making a quick mental note to inform the maintenance staff, and hastily stood, lowering her head in a bow of submission and supplication to the Mother Confessor.

"Good morning, Cynthia," came the serene voice of the Mother Confessor.

Cynthia looked up and saw Kahlan Amnell in all her beauty. She was clad in her nightgown, skimpy as it was. It clung to her moist skin, showing off her marvelous figure and full breasts. Cynthia realized that if their positions had been reversed that she, herself, might look very much the same after a session with the Lord Rahl.

"Yes, Mother Confessor," Cynthia replied, bowing her head, ridding her mind of such thoughts. She bent down and picked up the pile of clothing she had been trying to fold and took it over to a hamper, as Kahlan slipped out of her nightgown.

This was only Cynthia's second time assisting the Mother Confessor in morning preparations. She had been hesitant at first, unsure if Kahlan would really welcome having a woman who had tried to seduce her husband be the first one she greeted after spending the night with said husband. But the Mother Confessor did not seem to mind. She was always kind and understanding.

"Would you like a bath this morning, Mother Confessor?" Cynthia asked, taking the nightgown and placing it into the hamper for later washing. Cynthia shivered slightly, feeling how moist the fabric had become, soaked with the dew of lovemaking.

"That would be lovely, yes," Kahlan gave a nod.

Cynthia bowed her head, going into the adjacent room and began preparing the tub. Every morning, the early staff always brought hot water to the washroom of the Mother Confessor, and the buckets were waiting for her. Cynthia picked them up and poured them into the marble tub. She arched her neck and looked over her shoulder to see the Mother Confessor stepping through the door and into the room. The sunlight glistened off her nude form, making her look like some glowing spirit breaking through the veil to greet the living.

Cynthia had never seen the Mother Confessor so exposed, and it was rather shocking, not seeing her naked, but seeing how alike they really were: The shape and size of their breasts, the freckles that danced across their skin, and their bellybuttons! Spirits, they even had the same little mole on the inside of their right thigh. Everything about them seemed the same.

The only difference that Cynthia could pinpoint was the way they wore their hair. Cynthia had begun tying it back into a ponytail almost immediately after the Mother Confessor had returned. And, to be honest, that was how Cynthia had always worn her hair back in the Old World… back home. She would have cut it, but for some reason, whenever she had tried to trim her hair, it always hurt. She never knew why, but it did. And since she couldn't trust anyone else to cut it half as well as she would have, she wore her hair long and just simply tied it back away from her face.

The Mother Confessor seemed to sense that Cynthia was away in her own thoughts, and placed a hand on the her shoulder. "What is it, Cynthia?" she asked, kneeling down beside her.

Cynthia knitted her eyebrows together and looked into the Mother Confessor's eyes, so much like her own. In a way, it was kind of scary, seeing the same color reflecting back at you from a face that was so similar it was almost as if you were looking into a mirror.

"It's nothing, Mother Confessor," Cynthia responded, moving back to allow Kahlan to step over the lip of the tub. The Mother Confessor eased down and submerged herself beneath the warm water, letting out a sigh. "Which soap would you like to use today?"

"How about the one with the lavender scent," Kahlan said, running her hands through her soaked hair.

Cynthia inclined her head and turned to the wooden cabinet. She opened it up and scanned the bottles, looking for the right one. Finding it, she returned to the Mother Confessor's side. She opened the bottle and dabbed some of the soap into her palm. Then, gently, she began rubbing it into the Mother Confessor's hair, running her fingers into the lush length and massaging Kahlan's scalp.

As she continued, building the soap up to a nice rich lather, the Mother Confessor knitted her eyebrows together and looked up at her. "Now, Cynthia," she said. "I don't need to have my powers to know that something is troubling you. Talk to me."

 _Spirits, why did she have to be so kind_ , Cynthia thought.  _All I want is to be a servant, a slave to this woman, as penance for my crime against her, and she wants to be my friend_. When she did not answer, the Mother Confessor raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Cynthia took a deep breath, already having decided she could never refuse this woman anything. "I… I… it was an accident, Mother Confessor," Cynthia stumbled through her words, trying to keep her eyes on her task of rinsing the Mother Confessor's hair and not on the Mother Confessor's eyes. "I saw you and the Lord Rahl…"

"Oh," was all Kahlan said, and her cheeks visibly blushed. She narrowed her eyes for a moment, and Cynthia was afraid that she was going to become angry, but then an amused smile formed on her lips. "Then I guess we're even."

"Mother Confessor?" Cynthia questioned, not understanding.

"Well, I saw you with Richard and now you've seen me with Richard," Kahlan said. "So… I guess we're even."

"But you are the one who is supposed to be with him, not me," Cynthia said. "I will never be able to repay my debt for what I have done."

"Cynthia," Kahlan sat up and turned around to face her. "Please, stop punishing yourself. I have already forgiven you. You were forced into doing it. You've admitted as much yourself. Accept my forgiveness and move on, please."

She gave a nod, though in truth, she could never forgive herself for trying to take the Lord Rahl. Kahlan sat back down, allowing Cynthia to sprinkle water over her head to clean the soap away. "There is more, Mother Confessor," Cynthia did not know what was making her so bold. There was just something about the Mother Confessor that made her want to tell the truth.

"I'm listening," Kahlan said, closing her eyes as the soapy water drifted down her face.

"When I saw you two together and… and I glimpsed the Lord Rahl…," Cynthia's voice trailed off. "I… I… just for a moment, I became aroused… seeing him."

Kahlan frowned, but said nothing. Cynthia's heart thumped in her chest, worried, yet again, that she had said something she should have kept to herself.

"It's alright, Cynthia," Kahlan finally spoke up. "I cannot blame you for being aroused by the sight of Richard." She opened her eyes and she smiled crookedly. "What woman wouldn't?" The Mother Confessor let out a light laugh, then became silent and looked contemplative.

She finished washing Kahlan's hair, and then helped her dry off. As she wrapped the towel around her, Cynthia thought she noticed the Mother Confessor looking uncomfortable. "Would you like me to leave and send Ruthy to finish the preparations with you?"

Kahlan looked up and shook her head, giving a small smile. "No, Cynthia, that won't be necessary."

"But I… I make you uncomfortable, do I not?" Cynthia objected.

The Mother Confessor stood there for a moment, hugging herself. She looked down, her long lush dark brown hair with a raven black sheen cascaded down around her face. When she looked back up, brushing her hair back, she stared at Cynthia with those bright blue eyes.

"To be honest, sometimes, yes," Kahlan said. "It would be wrong to lie to you. But it is not your fault," she continued, reassuringly. "You did not ask for any of this."

"Neither did you," Cynthia interjected. "I… I make things awkward between you and your husband."

Kahlan shook her head. "At first, yes, but no longer," she said firmly. "He… he remembers me."

"Yes, I know," Cynthia replied. "I heard the First Wizard discussing it with the sorceress… may I ask, how did that happen?" Kahlan blinked and looked startled by the question. "I beg your pardons, I should not have ask," Cynthia quickly said, feeling like she had overstepped her bounds.

"No, it's alright," the Mother Confessor said. "To be honest, I haven't really told anyone else… it would do me good to tell some one." She paused and took a breath, hugging the towel tighter around her frame. "It was during my first night back," she went on. "Richard made love to me." Kahlan opened her mouth slightly and gazed up at the ceiling, as if staring back into nirvana. "It was the most amazing experience in my life," she looked back down and locked eyes with Cynthia. "And then, afterwards, something happened, and he remembered me. The other parts that surround his memories of me are vague, but he remembers the parts that feature me… vividly."

"Could it be the Chimes?" Cynthia asked.

The Mother Confessor stopped dead and looked at her with a shocked expression. "You know about them?"

Cynthia nodded. "Sister Bree spoke of them often," she said. "She called them children of the Underworld, the Chimes of Death."

"The Chimes of Death," echoed Kahlan, nodding. "Yes, I guess that's an apt name for them. After all, that is what their task in this world seems to be." Kahlan gestured for them to leave and go into the bedchambers.

Cynthia bit her lower lip, worried that she'd come face to face with the Lord Rahl, but she followed just the same. She sighed with relief when the room was empty. Cynthia went over to the wardrobe and opened it, taking out one of the white dresses. Kahlan tossed the towel onto the big and pulled out some tiny black shorts from the chest of drawers. She slipped into them and paused, staring down at the stone floor.

"Cynthia?" she called.

Turning around, Cynthia looked down to the spot where the Mother Confessor was fixated. There was a small wet streak on the ground. Cynthia narrowed her eyes. "Well," Cynthia said, stepping forward and taking out a washrag from one of the many pockets in her servant's dress. "No one can accuse you of faking." She quickly cleaned up the evidence.

She froze, suddenly realizing what she had just said, and how out of place it was for a servant to speak like that. Cynthia looked up, and furrowed her brow, concerned and afraid. "I… I'm sorry."

Kahlan was hugging herself, and blushing like mad. "I… I suppose it doesn't matter," she said. "I suspect we keep up most of the Confessor's Palace."

Cynthia slowly stood, unsure how to respond. Kahlan's eyes slowly drifted up and met hers, and then the Mother Confessor giggled. The Mother Confessor's amusement was infectious and Cynthia soon found herself laughing as well. "Well, I can't speak for the rest of the palace, but to the servants down the hall, it is quite obvious what you and the Lord Rahl are doing every night," Cynthia added.

She turned back around and tried to calm herself, but was finding it difficult with the Mother Confessor still laughing. Spirits, they even had the same laugh. Cynthia found the corset and spun back around to assist with placing it on the Mother Confessor. Kahlan held up her hand and shook her head.

"No," she said. "I don't think I'll be wearing that dastardly thing anytime soon."

Cynthia furrowed her brow.

Kahlan laughed airily. "I suppose you've heard the rumors," she said, laying her hand over her stomach. "Well, they're true. I'm with child. I have been, since before this all started."

"Then it was on your honeymoon that you conceived?" Cynthia asked, rather boldly.

The Mother Confessor gave a nod, hugging her stomach. "Yes," she looked up at her. "Have you ever been with child, Cynthia?"

Cynthia swallowed past the lump in her throat at the emotions that that question caused. "Once," she said. "But it was not at my choice."

Kahlan gave an understanding nod. "While you were being held captive by the Imperial Order?"

"Yes. It was while the awful wizard was using me as his personal sex slave," Cynthia shuddered. "I never had it."

"Did you shed the child?" the Mother Confessor inquired, looking somewhat disgusted by the suggestion.

Cynthia shook her head. "No, I would have kept the child if I bore it," she said. "It would have been innocent of the father's crimes of rape. But, even if I had born it, the Order would have taken it away to raise it in one of the schools run by the Brotherhood. They would have raised my child to become a fervent believer in their twisted dogma."

"What happened?" Kahlan asked.

"Neville was rough one night and he made me bleed it out," Cynthia held back a sob, remembering how brutal the wizard had been that night. "He was particularly angry that night, and he kept yelling the same thing at me over and over again. I never understood what he was going on about, until Sister Bree began to train me to impersonate you."

"What was he saying to you?" the Mother Confessor inquired, lowering her brow, looking genuinely interested and sympathetic.

" _Try confessing me now, bitch_ ," Cynthia quoted with a shudder. "Those were his exact words."

Kahlan gave a nod. "I understand," she placed a hand on Cynthia shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to suffer in my place. He wanted me, but could not, because of my powers."

Cynthia gulped. "But then he got himself a Rada'Han," she said. "He came to me that night, smiling, saying that all his practice was going to come in handy, that he would finally be tasting the real one and not some cheap copy."

The Mother Confessor squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. "I wouldn't call you a cheap copy, Cynthia," she said. "If anything, you're an exact duplicate. The only difference is that I am a confessor and you're not."

"You're right about that, Mother Confessor," Cynthia said. "We  _are_  exact duplicates of each other. We are  _exactly_  the same, physically, that is." She fiddled with her hands, and averted her eyes. "Including that mole… on your inner thigh—"

"Impossible!" the Mother Confessor gasped.

"See for yourself," Cynthia said, lifting her skirt up past her hip, and turning her right leg to show the confessor. Kahlan knelt down and squinted, staring.

"Spirits, you're right," the Mother Confessor said, standing up. "There is something more to this then us just looking the same. Something deeper." She lowered her eyes and thought for a moment. "However, we have more important matters to deal with. Here," she picked up her white dress. "Help me finish dressing. We'll discuss this later."


	16. Important Matters And Decisions

Kahlan took a deep breath and looked at the woman. She had to admit there was more to her connection with Cynthia than just how strikingly similar they looked. It was something deeper, something more primal. It pained her to hear about all the vile things that had been inflicted upon the poor woman, and she wanted so much to find the reason why they were so similar, but at the moment, it had to wait. There were far more important matters needing her attention.

Today was going to be a big day for Richard… and for her, as well. As the Mother Confessor, or the wife of the Lord Rahl—however people want to see it, she had summoned the commanders and representatives of all the Midland nations that were still free from the boot of the Imperial Order to Aydindril. So, she had Cynthia help her finish changing into her white confessor's dress, happily minus the corset. Even though she was not yet showing, Kahlan felt suffocated by the thing, and didn't want it hampering the growth of Richard's child… their child. In two or maybe three more weeks there should be an evident bump, and she knew she was already starting to put on weight. She had complained about it to Richard last night, but he didn't seem to mind.

"More of you to love," he had whispered into her ear. His hand then drifted down her side and his fingertips brushed against her ribs. "And more to tickle!"

That little talk soon turned into quite an enjoyable session of lovemaking. And then, when they woke up that morning, Kahlan found herself wanting more and Richard happily complied with her needs. She did not know why, but during the last couple weeks Kahlan had been highly aroused. Spirits, even now she was still not sated. It had been just slightly under thirty minutes since Richard had brought her to release, and yet she wanted him between her legs once again. She took a deep breath, trying to stifle her intense primeval desires, but it was difficult. They were so raw and elemental, based on instinct and desperate sexual want. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.

Kahlan opened her eyes and looked at herself in the mirror, watching as Cynthia brushed her hair. It was so long and lush, and it seemed to glimmer in the sunlight with a raven black sheen. As the woman went about the task, Kahlan found herself staring. Cynthia was indeed correct in her assertion that everything about them was the same. It was not just their eyes, or their freckles, but more. Their lips looked exactly the same, except… she narrowed her eyes… no, not everything was the same. Cynthia did not have that small scar on her upper lip that Kahlan did. She closed her eyes and took a quick breath through her nose, remembering how she had gotten it. She had been young and stupid, of course. And it had happened when her sister and her were staying at Thandore with the Sisters of the Light.

Dennee wanted to play hide and seek, and had wandered off. Kahlan looked all over the settlement but could not find her. It was not until the sun went down that Kahlan had begun to worry. Dennee was all she had left of her mother. She was her only family left, since her father was nothing but a brute that had tied them up and used them to confess others. He had never treated them like daughters once mother died.

Fearing for her little sister, Kahlan had rushed heedlessly through the forest, terrified, scared to death that something bed had happened to Dennee. Spirits, she was supposed to be looking after her. Kahlan had been so frantic in her search that she had not been paying attention to where she was going. A stray branch seemed to come out of nowhere and smacked her in the face, cutting her upper lip.

Blinking, returning to the present, Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together and reached up to feel her lip. How come no one noticed that? Richard had always whispered softly into her ear how he found her lip scar adorable. And he would sometimes trace his finger around it before kissing her. If he found it so adorable, why did he not notice that Cynthia did not have that scar? Kahlan bit her lower lip. Why was she doing this to herself? Richard had lost his memory. It was not his fault. Nor was it Cynthia's. She had been a pawn. If anyone was to be blamed, it was this Sister Bree and the Imperial Order.

"Mother Confessor?" Cynthia questioned, sounding concerned.

Kahlan blinked and looked up, trying to smile. "I… I was just thinking about my sister," she half-lied, leaving out the part about the one physical difference between them that no one had noticed.

Cynthia gave a soft smile. "I was an only child," she said. "I often wished I had a sister, but my parents were older than most and I was all they had. When they died, I was alone… until I met Jared… but he's gone now. So I'm all alone again."

"No, you're not, Cynthia," Kahlan said, standing up from the plush velvet ottoman she had been sitting on and turned towards the woman. "You are not alone." She placed a hand on Cynthia's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. Cynthia sighed and eased into Kahlan's hold.

She heard tears and hugged Cynthia tighter. "Now, cheer up. You're the maidservant to the Mother Confessor," Kahlan said. "There are many young girls in this city that would want that roll."

Cynthia sniffled and gave a nod. "Thank you, Mother Confessor," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I have no idea what I've done to deserve your kindness and understanding."

"Think nothing of it, Cynthia," Kahlan reassured her, giving the woman one last hug, before stepping back. "Now, let's go, I'm sure the rest will be waiting for me."

Kahlan gave a smile as Cynthia nodded, then turned to leave the room. The young woman followed and they walked down the hallways in silence. Kahlan looked up at the portraits of the previous Mother Confessors that hung from the walls. Soon hers would join them. As she got closer to the end of the line, she clenched her jaw, knowing that soon she would see her mother's portrait. She had been an amazingly strong confessor and had died before her time. Many, including Serena, who took over as Mother Confessor after Kahlan's mother died, believed that Kahlan would be just as powerful, if not more so. Even as a young confessor, when she had been brought to Aydindril, the other confessors had whispered and speculated that Kahlan would one day become the Mother Confessor.

And all their speculations proved to be correct. Kahlan was the only confessor since the original confessors three thousands years ago to be able to use the Blood Rage, even if she could not control it. And she had become the Mother Confessor. But what good was being the Mother Confessor when she was the last of her kind, well at least for seven or eight months, then there would be another confessor. Kahlan ran her hand over her flat belly, wondering if she could even stand the wait. Kahlan already wanted to hold the baby in her arms and tell her how much she was loved. And how important she was. Not just to Aydindril, but to her parents, as well.

Coming back to the present, Kahlan held her breath when she saw it. Truth be told, she could hardly remember what her mother looked like, but it was always clear that this was her mother. The familial resemblance was obvious. Kahlan stopped before the painting of the woman who looked so much like her, yet not quite. Kahlan had some little differences with her mother, but she was clearly her mother's daughter. She lowered her head and murmured a soft prayer to the good spirits.

Cynthia stood beside her and looked up at the portrait. "Is that you're mother?" she asked.

Kahlan nodded. "Yes. Katharine Amnell," she spoke softly. "She was Mother Confessor, just like me."

"She's very beautiful," Cynthia said.

"Yes," Kahlan gave a small smile. "I always thought so."

"What about your father?" Cynthia asked, unaware of the feelings that mentioning her father stirred in Kahlan.

She had made her peace with him, but part of her could never forgive him for what he had put her and Dennee through. She was older now, and understood what the confessed were like, and how not all men that were confessed where evil. She thought of Carver Dunn, and how he had been a cook before he had been conscripted into the D'Haran army. He had felt guilty and took no pleasure in the things he was forced to do. That was her first exposure to the darker side of confessing people. Once confessed they would always tell their confessor the truth, so when Dunn had told her those things, she knew he was telling the truth.

"I… I don't want to talk about him," Kahlan replied softly.

Cynthia furrowed her brow in confusion, but inclined her head and kept silent. Kahlan stood before her mother's portrait for a little while longer, before continuing down the hall. They walked down the steps and were met by Cara in the foyer. The Mord'Sith was standing amongst a group of her Sisters of the Agiel. Kahlan recognized Rikka, who dashed over to give her a hug. Cara grumbled and rolled her eyes, still not used to the shows of affection that some of her subordinates started to display, thanks in no small part to Kahlan's presence amongst the leather-clad women.

Cara came over and gave a nod, eyeing Cynthia for a moment. Kahlan knew that her friend still did not feel comfortable with the look-a-like around, but she said nothing out of respect for Kahlan's authority as, not only Mother Confessor, but as the Lady Rahl.

"Richard is in the council chamber with Zedd and Nicci," Cara informed her. "General Reibisch just got back from Hallas with some disturbing news."

Kahlan gave a nod and gestured to Cynthia to follow. She rushed down the hall and smiled at Egan and Ulic, who were standing guard outside the big double doors of the council chambers. The two gentle D'Haran giants opened the doors for her and she stepped in to a cacophony of voices. The noise ceased almost immediately once she entered the room. Kahlan held her head up and wore her confessor's face as she strolled through the crush of people who parted for her. She noticed a lot of eyes and confused faces glance towards Cynthia.

Richard was standing up on the dais, and she smiled at seeing him dressed in his War Wizard's outfit. He always looked so handsome in it. Zedd and Nicci were next to him, and she spotted the rust-colored beard of the D'Haran general not far away. Kahlan stepped up onto the dais and walked over to her chair. She turned and faced the assembled crowd and raised her hands.

"Thank you all for coming," she said. "We have much to discuss, so let's not waste time on pleasantries." Kahlan looked towards the general. "First on the agenda, I believe General Reibisch has some information for us." Kahlan sat down in her chair, the rest followed. Richard sat in the chair beside her. He leaned over, resting his hand on the arm of her chair, placing his hand close to hers. "General?" Kahlan turned her attention to the lone man standing.

General Reibisch gave a nod, his bushy beard hiding most of his face. "The garrison in Hallas has reported a large force moving up through the central valley," he looked grave. "They could not see the end of it. It stretched for miles. The commander estimates that the enemy may have an army a million strong." That caused quite a few gasps to erupt through the chamber.

The General lowered his brow and continued. "The enemy has made camp about thirty leagues from Hallas, and the commander believes that they will soon be laying siege to the town."

"We should have them evacuate!" someone shouted.

Kahlan narrowed her eyes and looked out towards the assembled councilors and lords and ladies. She didn't know who had spoken, but now was not the time for such worries. She looked over at Richard, who looked concerned.

"What do we do, Kahlan?" he lowered his voice and asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

Kahlan took a deep breath, hiding her discomfort at being the one to make the decisions. She had never asked to become the leader of the D'Haran Empire, but with Richard in his present state, she was all they had. She squeezed his hand gently and then turned her attention to the general.

"General, how large is our garrison at Hallas?" she asked.

"A little under three thousand men-at-arms," Reibisch replied. "And two hundred cavalry."

Kahlan shook her head. There was no way such a force could stand against the Imperial Army and prevail. Spirits, that person had been correct, they needed to evacuate the town as soon as possible. Kahlan stood and gave the order.

"Evacuate the town," Kahlan spoke in her Mother Confessor's voice. She had to be strong and firm, it was the only way she could command. She did not know why she felt so nervous and worrisome about commanding an army, after all she'd fought many battles with Richard, Zedd, and Cara. And spirits be damned, she knew what she was doing. "And have the garrison fall back to Aydindril."

"Mother Confessor?"

Kahlan turned and looked at the general. "If we are to make a stand, it must be here!"

Reibisch turned his eyes and looked at Richard, the Lord Rahl. Even though Richard was not completely himself, the D'Harans still needed his strength. Richard gulped and stood up beside her, looking at her with his big warm brown eyes, before turning to the red bearded general.

"The Mother Confessor has spoken," he said firmly. "We will make our stand here… in Aydindril." He swallowed, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "The civilians should be evacuated to D'Hara," he added. "They'll be safer behind the mountains."

"I agree," Nicci said, standing, and adding her voice and support to Richard's assertion.

Everyone then turned and looked over at Zedd. As First Wizard his words carried much weight. Zedd furrowed his brow and stroked his chin in a scholarly sort of way before nodding in agreement. "I concur with the Seeker," he said. "The best place for the civilians would be D'Hara. I'm not sure how long we'll be able to hold off the Order, but I'd feel better not having anyone to worry about when the fighting comes."

That seemed to please everyone. Kahlan took a breath, happy to see that there did not seem to be that much argument over her decision. After some more reports and discussions about the coming war the council broke for lunch. As the councilors, generals, and other representatives of the Midlands left, Zedd turned to Kahlan and placed a hand on her arm.

"How are you doing, dear one?" he asked in a soft grandfatherly voice. "Any more morning sickness?"

"Not for a while," Kahlan said. "But then again, confessors aren't known for really having it that much, mainly just in the very beginning." She bit her lower lip before she started rambling and let slip that what her real problem was her constant sexual demands. Spirits, she was highly aroused. Nothing seemed to stay her burning desires. And it did not help that just the slightest look from Richard or a simple touch from him inflamed her so much that it was hard to just keep her cheeks from not flushing with the heat that sprang up between her legs. It took all her self-control to not simply shove him into her chair and straddle him with her legs.

"Well, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask," Zedd said, smiling, completely unaware of the thoughts that were flowing through Kahlan's mind. "I may not have command of magic right now, but I still remember the remedies I made for Erilyn when she was carrying Richard's mother." His eyes got misty and he sniffled.

Kahlan furrowed her brow and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm, knowing that the old wizard deeply loved his wife. "I'm sure you'll see her again with the good spirits, Zedd," she said reassuringly.

Zedd gave a nod, clenching his jaw tightly. "Thank you, dear one," he patted her hand, and then turned to leave.

Richard had been standing off to the side watching. "My grandmother is dead?" he asked, looking sorrowful. Kahlan gave a weak nod and moved up to stand by him, wrapping her arm around his.

"I'm sorry, Richard," she spoke softly.

He inclined his head and tried to smile. "Its all right… there's still so much I don't remember," he replied. "How can I be a leader to these people when I hardly know myself?" He let out a frustrated breath.

Kahlan soothed him, massaging the back of his neck with a hand. His back muscles were tense and the image of her hands running down his back, massaging and kneading his muscles caused her face to flush with unwanted arousal. She did not need these flashes of sexual need whilst in council. Trying to hide it behind her confessor's mask, Kahlan continued to rub his neck.

"You're doing fine, Richard," she said. "And you're not alone, you have me! You're idea to send the civilians to D'Hara was a good idea. Eventually we might all have to fall back to D'Hara." Kahlan turned and looked off into nothing, half amazed at her own words. It had not been too long ago that she had been fighting to stop D'Hara from controlling the Midlands, now she was practically the queen of D'Hara. "I don't know if we have the strength to hold back the Imperial Order," she admitted, turning back to Richard. "But the most important thing is protecting the people. Homes can be replaced, people can't."

Richard gave a nod and held up her hand, kissing it slightly, not knowing that doing so caused his wife to burn with wanton need. "That's why I'm so worried," he knitted his eyebrows together in doubt. "What if I can't save them?"

" _Shh_ ," Kahlan murmured, reaching up to caress his face, and trying to stifle the urge to push Richard to the ground and make love to him right there. Spirits, how she hated these strong urges. Well, all right, she didn't hate them, they were just inconvenient. She took a breath, knowing full well that her cheeks were probably betraying her and blushing in a bright pink color. "No more of this self doubting. You are Richard Rahl. You are the Master of D'Hara and the Seeker of Truth. You are the man who found a way to love a confessor." She paused and looked up into his eyes. "You are the father of my child. And I am your wife. We will get through this together. Like we always have."

He let out a soft breath. "You're right." Richard held her hand tightly and smiled meekly. "I have a feeling you're always right."

"Of course I am," Kahlan smiled. "Now, let's go join Zedd for lunch before he eats the kitchen out of its stores."

That made Richard laugh. Behind them Cara smirked, no doubt amused and in agreement with Kahlan's jest. Holding hands, Kahlan and Richard, with their retinue in toe, left the council chambers and headed for the dining hall.


	17. Restlessness

Cara arched her neck back and let out a growl of pleasure as she reached climax. Her fluids seeped out of her and mingled with the warm seed of her lover. Letting out a heavy breath of gratification, Cara adjusted her legs as she eased off Benjamin Meiffert, lying down beside him on the bed, sighing in contentment. The D'Haran captain wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. Cara smirked and rolled her eyes. She had never been one for snuggling; that was something Richard and Kahlan did. But she relented, knowing how much Benjamin enjoyed it… and she actually liked pleasing him.

Pleasing a man was something Mord'Sith never did, unless he was the Lord Rahl. Never, in her entire life, had Cara ever sought to please a man… well, except maybe Richard, but that was different. Richard was the Lord Rahl, her lord and master, not the man she loved. Though, in the beginning, when she had first joined their merry little band, it had been for Richard. She had instantly seen that he was infatuated with the Mother Confessor, but she thought that's all it was, an infatuation. There was no way he could be with the confessor in the way she knew he wanted to.

With that in mind, Cara had planned on seducing him, not because she simply desired him, but because she needed to rid his mind of the foolish notion that he could ever act on his infatuation for Kahlan. But as she spent more time with them, the more Cara realized that the Seeker was not just infatuated with the Mother Confessor, but in love with her. And judging from the way the confessor kept glaring at her whenever Richard talked with her, Cara knew that the confessor loved the Seeker as well. Since then, she was determined to protect both of them.

Now Cara lay in the arms of another man, one she did not have to compete for. Benjamin appreciated her for her. She did not have to change for him, like she would have had to do for Richard. Benjamin accepted her for what she was and was not afraid. And he liked rough sex, which pleased Cara greatly. But more importantly, he cared about her. And she, well, she guessed she cared about him. However, right now she did not really care about that. Right now, this very night, all she really needed was release. And Benjamin had provided that. To be honest, he'd been providing for her needs in that regard for quite a while as of late.

Cara rested her head against the pillow and gazed up at the ceiling. It had been a week since they had ordered the evacuation of Hallas, and still they had yet to hear any word back from them. No one knew if they had managed to evacuate the people and get them to safety or not. Cara was concerned, a feeling she found uncomfortable and slightly unnerving. She was worried that they had been too late in ordering the evacuation. For an army like the Imperial Order, thirty leagues were not really that far of a distance to cover.

"Are you alright, Cara?" Benjamin questioned, affectionately rubbing her arm.

She smiled at the gesture, knowing the emotions that were behind it. Adjusting herself onto her side, Cara placed a hand on his chest and played with the hairs there. She narrowed her eyes and looked at his concerned face.

"I know you like to be strong, Cara," Benjamin spoke softly. "And that you don't like to show any weakness, least of all to me." He paused, and swallowed. "But… but it's okay. I won't think any less of you. I… I love you."

Cara blinked. Did he just say it? She stared at him, half amazed that he had actually said those words. She also felt a strange feeling she had never felt before, except maybe a little when she had been with Leo, but that had just been the inklings of something more. This was more… much more. She narrowed her eyes, was her heart actually beating quicker? Taking a deep breath, Cara backed up and looked down at him.

"You love me?" she inquired, dubious.

Benjamin nodded. "Yes, Cara… I love you," he answered firmly, knitting his eyebrows together. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Cara shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "Can you really love a Mord'Sith?"

He shifted closer to her and reached up, cupping her face in a big strong hand. "Cara, you're much more than a Mord'Sith to me," he said. "You're a woman… a strong, beautiful, independent… and sometimes maybe a little too stubborn woman! But I love you for it!"

Before she could say anything, Benjamin leaned forward and captured her lips in his. She closed her eyes, feeling a strange sensation in her chest. It was an odd feeling. She wondered if this was what Kahlan felt when Richard whispered his love and kissed her. Cara lowered her brow, not sure she liked this feeling. It made her feel vulnerable, and that was not something she wanted to feel. Mord'Sith were not supposed to feel vulnerable. They were supposed to be strong and invincible. As Benjamin backed away, Cara bit his lower lip, sucking. He nipped at her gently and then swept her up in another kiss.

It was during this second kiss that Cara realized what she was feeling was real. And that she actually enjoyed how it warmed her heart and made her tingle all over as Benjamin's lips moved over hers. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers and they shared a warm breath.

"Benjamin?" Cara murmured softly, caressing his shoulder.

"Yes, Cara?" he questioned, running his hands through her hair, softly blowing kisses on her cheek.

"Benjamin, stop," she laughed softly, slapping him playfully. The D'Haran captain grinned and leaned back, sighing. Cara took in a breath, calming her nerves and looking into his eyes. "Benjamin… I… I love you, too." There! She said it. And she felt good. She had been wrong. Saying it had not made her feel vulnerable. It made her feel great and wonderful, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

Now, for the first time, Cara believed she understood why Kahlan had reacted the way she did when they had found Richard with that duplicate. And she understood Richard more, as well. Spirits, to know one was to know the other. They were inseparable—Richard and Kahlan. Cara smiled to herself. Perhaps the same could eventually be said about her and Benjamin. And she was surprised that she found that idea appealing.

"Feel better now?" Benjamin asked, running his hand down her side. His fingers played across her hip until they came to a rest.

Cara inched closer, curling up against his strong chest. "A little," she said. And then she asked for something she had never asked a man to do. She'd seen Kahlan do it and saw how the Mother Confessor enjoyed it. So now that she had admitted her feelings for him, she wanted to feel the same joy Kahlan felt with Richard. "Benjamin… hold me."

He smiled. "With pleasure, Cara," he purred into her ear and wrapped his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest, listening to the reassuring beating of his heart.

XXX

She dove across the room, rushing with great hurry to the washroom. Throwing the door open, Kahlan dashed for the waste bucket, collapsing on the floor before it and retching out a sick mess of stomach fluids and what remained from her evening meal. Heaving and convulsing, she held back her hair as another surge came and she arched her back, shuddering as she retched. Coughing slightly as the last of it was over, Kahlan sat back and groaned, placing a hand over her growing tummy. It had been just over a month since she had discovered that she was with child, and she was finally beginning to show. It was not much, but she could feel it when she ran her hands over stomach.

Kahlan had been quite adamant with Zedd a couple of weeks ago that confessors never got morning sickness. So this sudden appearance of the involuntary purging had been a complete surprise. To be honest, she was shocked that she had begun regurgitating her evening meals in the wee hours of the morning. It had started two nights ago, no one knew, not even Richard, except for her two maidservants Ruthy and Cynthia, and they had sworn secrecy. Kahlan had not wanted Richard to know because she felt he already had enough to worry about without adding her into the mix.

But this was all very frustrating and irritating. This was not supposed to happen to confessors. She closed her eyes, hating the bitter aftertaste that always came and quickly poured herself a glass of water and rinsed her mouth, gurgling, then spitting out the dregs into the waste bucket. She fetched a washcloth from a cabinet and wiped her chin before leaving the washroom to head back for bed.

Tiptoeing across the cold stone floor, Kahlan made her way back to their big bed. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her nude form. Even though they were in the cusp of winter, Richard and Kahlan had been sleeping without clothes for the last coupe of weeks. It probably wasn't very smart, but it made it easier to make love, not having anything in the way. And besides, she greatly enjoyed curling up against his warm body, feeling their skin touch. Kahlan loved the way it made her tingle all over. She just wished that she didn't have these sudden retching sessions in the middle of her other urges.

Thinking of those urges—the ones she liked better, Kahlan recalled hearing the rapt moans of another woman drifting the halls earlier in the evening. She had instantly recognized them as coming from Cara. The Mord'Sith seemed to be having a sympathetic connection with Kahlan, because Cara's sexual wants and needs seemed to be on the same high as Kahlan's were.

Kahlan had been distrustful of the Mord'Sith when Richard first accepted the agiel wielding blonde into their group, thinking that Cara had intentions on Richard. But, as time went by, the two of them had developed an unexpected bond that was beyond friendship. In a way, Cara had almost become like a sister to her. As a result, Kahlan took some joy in the knowledge that her "sister of the agiel" had found someone who so obviously cared about her as the young D'Haran captain did. Kahlan could only hope that she and Richard had managed to break enough of the Mord'Sith's barriers to allow Cara to finally find love. After everything her friend had been through in her life, she deserved to love and be loved.

Thinking about her friend, Kahlan continued across the floor and eventually made it to the big bed. She lifted the sheets and climbed up onto the mattress, slipping beneath the blankets. She sighed, relishing the warmth that dwelled there and curled up beside her husband, resting her weary head on his shoulder.

Richard made a soft noise and his eyes opened, looking down at her. "Kahlan?" he questioned in a soft voice, noticing that she was awake. "Are you all right? I could not help but notice your absence."

"I… I'm fine, Richard," she murmured, cozying up close to him and spreading one leg over his middle. "Go back to sleep."

Richard gave a slight nod, though he looked unconvinced, and lowered his head back down on the pillow. Kahlan closed her eyes and tried to return to sleep, but she could not. Her mind was restless. She lay there, staring off at nothing, playing with her hands across his chest.

"You know, for a confessor, you're not that good of a liar," came his voice.

Kahlan looked up and saw that he was still awake. Richard shifted, sitting up slightly, and pulled her with him. She gave in to him and sat up beside him, allowing him to slip his arm around her to give her better access to rest her head on his shoulder. His fingers tenderly caressed her arm as her held her. His other hand rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

"Talk to me, Kahlan," he urged. "Spirits know you're the only one I can really talk too. I know Zedd's my grandfather, but I still can't remember him." He groaned softly. "The same is true with everyone here. The only person who I remember is you." He paused for a beat. "You're all I have, Kahlan. So if you can't even confide in me, then do I really have anything at all?"

She let out a breath, feeling terrible that he felt like she did not want to confide in him. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much that she left unsaid because with his current lack of certain key memories, he would not understand. But at least he remembered her. Kahlan still did not know what had restored his memories of her. Whatever it was, it had been quite thorough, because he even remembered the little things he did that she liked so much, and not just while they made love, but like right now, how his hand was affectionately stroking her arm as he held her.

"You're right, Richard," Kahlan submitted. "I should confide in you. And not just because you should be kept informed, but because you are my husband and the man I love."

Richard smiled and kissed her brow. Kahlan closed her eyes, always loving his kisses, no matter where her planted them. His lips always sent waves of bliss through her being, making her feel content and safe. She adjusted herself in his arms so that she was looking up into his warm brown eyes.

"I… I've been retching up my evening meals for the past three nights," Kahlan disclosed.

"That's normal, isn't it?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows together. "I mean, for a woman in your condition."

Kahlan gave a shrug. "For a normal woman, maybe, yes," and then she gave a crooked smile. "But I'm not an ordinary woman, Richard."

Richard gave a half-lazy grin. "You don't have to tell me," he winked. "You're a rarity, Kahlan. A precious gem among common stones. Even before I got my memories of you back I knew the truth of that!" He pulled her closer, tilting her head up with a hand as he cupped her face. "And I could not love you anymore than I do at this moment."

He leaned down and pressed his lips softly against hers, giving her a long and tender kiss. Kahlan closed her eyes and eased into his hold, allowing him to sweep her up into a deeper kiss that said more of his love for her than words alone could. She did not say it, but it meant so much to her to know that she had his love and support right now. The changes happening to her body were nothing like she had expected. But somehow, being in his arms and hearing his proclamations of love for her, made it all easier to bear.

Pulling back, she exhaled in contentment and rested her head back against his shoulder, as he hugged her closer. His hand drifted down to her tummy and he stroked his fingers across the little bump that had begun to form. "She'll be just as precious as you, my Kahlan," he murmured. "I already love her."

Kahlan raised her eyebrows and smiled, delighted that even though he had problems of his own, he still was her Richard. He continued playing his fingers around her navel, running circles across her soft skin. She closed her eyes and tilted her head down to watch, basking in his love. Seeing his hand so close to another spot on her body, made Kahlan flush with the sudden rush of sexual want; yet another one of the many side effects of her condition.

Unlike the purging, this was one side effect that she enjoyed, though sometimes it would be inconvenient, like when it flared up during the middle of an important meeting or when Richard was away inspecting the battalions stationed on the city walls with Zedd and Captain Meiffert. When that occurred and she was alone, with no chance of seeing him for a couple more hours, she had to content herself with her own ministrations. It was never as satisfying as having Richard, but it helped to sate her needs, if only for a short while.

Now, however, Kahlan was not alone when her body flushed with unbridled sexual want and need. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and he could sense her growing desires. He smiled, and his hand began drifting further south. Kahlan giggled airily as his fingers started playing with the small forest that surrounded her special place. This was one of the things Richard always seemed to know instinctively. He could tell when she was aroused, and he acted on it, giving her what she needed without being told or asked to do.

Kahlan shifted, opening her legs a tad to give him more room to work with, as he continued exploring her nether regions. Her mouth dropped involuntarily when his hand reached her femininity and he began rubbing her special place slowly. She turned her head and looked up into his eyes, her own starting to fog with the pleasure his fingers were giving her.

Starting to pant in heavy breaths, her chest rose and fell as his fingers caressed her folds, his thumb staying in the required location to continue to stimulate her special place. While his right hand was occupied between her legs, the other, attached to the arm draped over her shoulder, continued to affectionately stroke the bare skin of her left arm. Laughing giddily at the euphoria he always seemed to cause in her, Kahlan tilted her neck to give him access. Taking the cue, Richard leaned down and began nibbling playfully at the supple flesh there.

"Oh Richard," Kahlan moaned as she felt his fingers spread her folds and begin to push inside her. He always made her so wet.

As Richard continued to kiss at her neck and work his fingers around inside her, Kahlan lifted a hand and ran it down his chest, feeling and touching him. He groaned into her neck, as her hand dropped down below his waist and gripped him in her cold fingers. Smiling to herself, loving how he always seemed to instantly respond to her touch, Kahlan began stroking him, running her fingers up and down his length.

Richard pulled back and Kahlan shifted her head, pouting her lips. He chuckled softly, then leaned forward, seizing her lips in his. She pushed her tongue out and ran it along his upper lip, asking for entrance. He complied with her demands and parted his lips, allowing her to thrust her tongue into his mouth and explore the warmth within. Kahlan was rapidly losing herself in the pleasure she was deriving from his fingers working her femininity, and the feel of his member growing stiffer in her hand as she continued to dance her fingers up and down it.

Devouring each other's faces greedily, both were oblivious to the sudden rapping that came from the door. It was not until the rap turned into a loud hammering that they pulled back breathlessly to turned to the commotion. Groaning in annoyance as he slipped his fingers out of her, Kahlan pleaded with Richard to stay, but he shook his head and slipped off the bed, wrapping one of the white sheets around his, covering his aroused state.

Kahlan slumped back in the bed, pulling up the blankets to cover herself, as Richard made his way over to the door. Taking in a deep breath, trying to control her needs, Kahlan watched as he opened the door. None other than Zedd appeared. Kahlan felt like groaning. Even when they were married, he still seemed to find ways of interrupting their fun.

Zedd gave a nod and apologized for intruding, but informed them that he had important news. "Well, grave is more like it," he added, looking grim. Kahlan shifted, pulling the blankets up more as she sat up.

"What is it, Zedd?" she inquired, brushing her hair back from her face.

Zedd looked over at his grandson and then back at her. "Hallas," he said in a low voice. "It's fallen to the Imperial Order. We just received word. I thought you would want to know immediately."

Richard gave a nod, frowning. "The garrison?" he asked.

"All dead," Zedd answered, lowering his eyebrows in sadness.

Kahlan furrowed her brow, worried. "And the civilians?" she questioned, looking up at Zedd. "What about them? Did they manage to escape to safety?"

Zedd looked at her for a long time with big sorrowful grey eyes before finally answering with a shake of his head. "They were just leaving when the Order attacked. From what the reports we got back say, the entire town is being ravaged as we speak. Only the spirits know what the Order is doing to them."

Kahlan let out a whimper, knowing full well what was happening to the people of Hallas. They'd heard reports before of what occurred when the Order seized a city: Rape, torture, looting, all forms of debauchery and evil was going on right now in Hallas. Suddenly the needs she had just been reveling in moments before seemed selfish and shameful, when there were men being killed and women being raped out there. The rapturous mood that she had been shrouded in vanished, leaving her feeling cold and terrible. If it had not been for those reports of how other cities in the Midlands had fallen, Kahlan would already have known, thanks to Nicci and Cynthia. Both had lived in the Old World and had witnessed the atrocities of the Imperial Order. For men who claimed to be following the path of the Creator, they were no saints.

The old wizard seemed to sense the chill in the room and apologized again for his intrusion before making his leave. Richard closed the door, bolting the latch, before returning to bed. He eased down next to her and looked up at the ceiling. Kahlan sniffled and looked up into his eyes.

"Richard… hold me," she whimpered, near tears.

Richard wrapped her up in his strong arms and pulled her to him. Kahlan buried her head in his chest and wept for those who were suffering this night.

XXX

The Emperor stood tall and erect, like a statue of a horrific demon, on the smoking heap of what had once been the headquarters of the D'Haran garrison. Surrounding him were his elite guard, who stood passively and unmoving as chaos ensued around them, as the men of the army were set loose to ravage and pillage the city as their reward for it's pacification. Sister Bree stood by his side with a blank expression, determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her surprise.

Yes, her surprise. The Sister of the Dark had not expected the town to fall so quickly, but it appeared that fortune was on their side, because they had caught the citizens with their breeches down as they were trying to evacuate before the storm that was the Imperial Order hit their walls. Their timing had been unfortunate, and the Order swept over them like a plague. The D'Harans put up a brave fight, but they were no match for the numbers at the Emperor's command.

Now, what was once a beautiful town was a raging firestorm of destruction and brutality. She could hear the violence going on all around her and shuddered. Bree had never been one to abhor the methods of the Order, but even she found what was going on disturbing. She never realized that being the Emperor's whore had protected her from so much savagery.

Jagang turned to her and grinned wickedly, his storm-like eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her mood. He wrapped a big arm around her and squeezed her bottom, pulling her flush against his brawny chest. He was clothed as usual, in leather buckskin trousers and a simple sheep wool vest that hardly covered up his massive barrel of a chest. Pulling her closer, he shoved his hands up her skirt and groped at her, while at the same time signaling for his men to line up for departure.

Bree gritted her teeth, knowing what was to come. The Emperor was always aroused after a battle and she had grown used to servicing him during those times. However, she didn't have to like it. Part of her wished she could simply slice her throat and sink down into the black-green abyss of the Underworld to the cool embrace of her eternal father, but with the Chimes about in the world of the living, such things were impossible. They had disrupted the natural order of things and had even effected the layers of the underworld.

As he pulled her along with him as they made their way through the havoc going on around them, Bree caught sight of all the horrors. Babies were being thrown against the walls until their skulls cracked. Young boys were being forced to fight one another like gladiators as the men circled around them and made bets as to which ones would survive. Young girls were being forced to strip and parade around as the soldiers hooted and hollered, before selecting one to rape while their parents watched on in horror, unable to stop it. The old and infirm were tortured and experimented on with vicious looking instruments by the field surgeons. The majority of the women in the town were being herded into the square, where they were separated and grouped in order of attractiveness.

The most highly attractive ones would be kept for the officers and maybe even the Emperor, since when Bree was recovering from her times with him, no longer having access to her Han to heal herself, he would need companionship. The comely ones would be kept and taken to the tents to service the men, while the rest most likely would be gang raped on the spot, then killed.

Their husbands, and the other men of the town, had been grouped on the other side of the square and were forced to watch it all. One man tried to fight through the soldiers to get to his screaming wife as she was being raped, but the soldiers quickly subdued him, hacking him to bits and taking his severed head to shove in his wife's face as the men continued to take her. The Emperor stopped and watched, cheering on some of the men as they took a young girl away from her mother's arms and raped her on the spot. Bree shuddered and looked away. She had done some evil things in her time, but nothing as cruel or twisted as what the men of the Order did to the citizens of Hallas.

She approved of their mission, to kill as many non-believers as possible, but she did not approve of their methods. If only she had her powers she could have saved that poor girl from the fate that was befalling her as she was deflowered by the brutes of the Order. Jagang laughed boisterously when he noticed Bree's expression. She bit her lower lip and tried to suppress her look of horror at what she was witnessing, but she could not.

The Emperor grinned and declared that he could not wait any longer. He pulled her aside and shoved her into one of the vacant homes, pushing her skirt up as he unbuckled his trousers. Bree grunted as he pushed her against the wall and shoved himself inside her, taking her from behind. His large hands squeezed her small breasts hard and she clenched her jaw tight, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her scream.


	18. Worries

She felt queasy, which forced her appear undignified when she had to reach out for Richard's arm and grab a hold of him for support. He looked over at her and checked to make sure she was all right, before continuing. It had been almost two months since Hallas had been taken by the Order, and she had seen precious little of her husband. Despite his gap in his memories, he was still a capable leader. And with Zedd and Nicci watching over his shoulder, Richard was proving an excellent commander to the troops of the combined D'Haran and Midlands army.

Kahlan had spent much of the last two months with Ruthy and Cynthia, not to mention the ever-vigilant Rikka. Her Mord'Sith friend was still young enough that she had never seen a woman with child and was fascinated by the whole thing. Richard would have preferred Cara to be her personal guard, but Kahlan had insisted on Rikka. She had nothing against Cara, she loved her like a sister, but at the moment, she would prefer it if the agiel-toting Mord'Sith did not see her in this condition. The nausea had gotten so bad that Kahlan could not even reach a waste bucket at times. She was ashamed by it, and did not want Cara, who had always seen her at her strongest, to see her at that low.

Besides, as Cara had been Richard's pet project, so had Rikka been for Kahlan. Richard had helped bring Cara back to the fold, so to speak, and Kahlan had done the same with Rikka. And Rikka was fiercely protective of the Mother Confessor. All the Mord'Sith were. It was surprising, and a lot to get used to, considering that not long ago the Mord'Sith had hunted down and killed most of the remaining confessors, including her sister Dennee, who had been restored to life in another woman's body, only to die again because of the magic plague that had befallen the Midlands after that dastardly red moon appeared that one night.

Kahlan would have rather taken a more active role in the defense of the Midlands, but Zedd and Verna had convinced her that she already was, by carrying the next confessor. And the First Wizard insisted that that was just as important as the war effort. It went so far that Zedd had to constantly remind Kahlan that it was her duty as the last confessor to continue the line, that the Midlands was going to need confessors in the future if it were to survive the onslaught of the Imperial Order. So, she relented, and stayed out of the way, secluded in the Mother Confessor's office with only her two maidservants to see to her needs. Though she had managed to convince Nicci that it was not unreasonable that she be kept in the loop. So her sorceress friend went behind Zedd's back and snuck her reports. If anything, Kahlan wanted to be kept informed so that she could advise Richard. No matter what the First Wizard and Sister of the Light believed, the Lord Rahl still sought out her opinion on everything he did.

However, it was really depressing reading those reports; they were all the same. The Order would advance and the Alliance army would fall back. Currently, most of the generals believed they were in a stalemate, fighting over the boundaries of the Ten Oaks. But if Kahlan was getting anything from these reports it is was that Ten Oaks could only stand against the horde for a matter of days until it fell. Then Aydindril would be the next target. Kahlan only wished that winter had been stronger this year, driving back the Order until spring, giving the D'Haran Empire, she had helped formed, more time to regroup and plan a counter offensive.

Last night, after he had dulled her with a very enjoyable session of lovemaking, Richard had started talking about maybe sending her away… up to some fortress in the mountains called Obentan. But Kahlan refused, not wanting to leave his side. After a heated argument, Richard eventually relented to her and agreed to let her stay. However, after they made love again, to ease the hurt feelings caused by their argument, Richard made it clear that sooner or later she was going to have to leave, if not for her own safety, then for that of their unborn child. Kahlan capitulated in that regard. As much as she wanted to stay with Richard, she would do anything to protect her child… their child.

If any had doubted that the Mother Confessor was with child, they knew now. It was obvious, just looking at her. After the first two months, she finally started showing, and now being a total of four months pregnant Kahlan was really showing. Kahlan had become increasingly anxious and worried over the past weeks, not understanding why her belly was not larger. She looked like a normal woman would at four months. And she had always been taught that confessors gestated at a quicker rate than ordinary women, coming to term around the end of the fifth month. Yet here she was, at four months, and not even close to where she thought she should be. Spirits, this pregnancy was nothing like she thought it was going to be.

Firstly, she had not expected this constant nausea that assaulted her senses, seemingly to hang over her like an unyielding thundercloud. Secondly, she seemed to be putting on more weight than she would have liked to, having more cravings that she cared to admit. Sometimes she thought she was beginning to devour food at the same rate as the First Wizard, but unlike him, she seemed to balloon out. Then, there was the constant mood swings. Richard did his best to handle her when she got angry or emotional, but even she could tell he was growing weary of her outbursts. Kahlan yearned for the days when simply being held in his arms made her feel safe and secure.

However, despite those mood swings, their love life had not faltered... or diminished. Each night, Richard would reassure her that he loved her and found her sexually desirable. She would shake her head and try and deny his proclamations, but he would not have it. Before she could protest or make any objections, Richard would cover her mouth with his and kiss her deeply. As he did so, his hands would roam her body, touching her in all of her intimate places. How she loved that, him kissing her body and touching her. It made her heart flutter and she could not resist him.

Feeling him inside her as they made love seemed to calm her fried nerves. As their bodies thrived and mingled, all the worries of the day drifted away and Kahlan would be overwhelmed by the sheer bliss that came with being with Richard. He was tender and gentle in his lovemaking, always ensuring that he brought her to orgasmic release. Kahlan loved how feeling her release—her essence pooling on the mattress beneath them—only seemed to make Richard want her more. And Kahlan craved feeling his seed fill her insides, knowing that it had already created life within. She loved the warmth of it as it seeped around her, making her feel alive.

Besides the obvious pleasure involved in those activities, Kahlan knew it also helped Richard relieve the stress of the day and the burden of his command. So in need of relief was he, that sometimes Richard would come to her at midday, looking all anxious and pent up, briskly asking the servants to leave, before pulling her into his arms. Kahlan had grown used to such things, and enjoyed it greatly, especially when he was so eager he would simply kissed her and spin her around, unlacing his trousers and shoving her skirts up to take her from behind. There was something so raw and animalistic about those times that excited her. Those were always the most passionate and intense sessions of their lovemaking. But Kahlan savored their alone time at night in bed, when he would make tender and gentle love to her over and over again long into the night. And the fact Richard would do that almost every night was beyond rapture for Kahlan.

However, as of late, his midday visits had ceased, as the war consumed more and more of his time. Though they would still make love at night, it was not as long or as tender as before. And sometimes Richard would be a little bit too rough in his lovemaking. He would always apologize afterwards if he had hurt her. But what troubled her most was that sometimes she would not even reach release. Kahlan never wanted to think that she could find no pleasure in making love with Richard.

"Kahlan?" his voice called to her, snapping her mind out of her wandering thoughts.

She blinked and looked about, seeing that they were in the marble foyer. Cara and Rikka, along with a dozen Mord'Sith, were awaiting them outside. A litter had been brought up to carry the Mother Confessor. Richard led her out, holding her hand in his. Ruthy and Cynthia were standing by the litter, waiting to assist. When they got closer, Ruthy stepped forward and took Kahlan's other hand and helped her into the litter as Richard turned his attention to Captain Meiffert. As she rested herself in the cushions, Kahlan listened to the men talk.

"Are you sure about this, Lord Rahl?" Meiffert inquired, looking concerned. Cara stood beside him, rolling her eyes.

"She is still the Mother Confessor and the ruler of the Midlands," Richard asserted firmly. "And furthermore, she is my wife and the Lady Rahl. She has every right to come along."

Meiffert gave a reluctant nod. "Yes, Lord Rahl."

Richard clasped a hand on the man's shoulder and reassured him. "I know you only ask because you are concerned for her safety, and for that I am grateful," Richard said, sounding more and more like his old self. Kahlan wondered if more of his memories had returned. She watched as he turned back to her, his unruly brown hair blowing in the breeze. He raised his handand signaled the bearers. "All right, let's get a move on."

Kahlan closed her eyes briefly as the litter bearers lifted the carriage and began moving. She would never get used to being carried around in one of these things. Truth be told, she much preferred riding on a horse, but Zedd and the midwives had cautioned her against that. So she relented to this luxury, mainly for the baby than her own comfort. Richard walked along side the litter, dressed in his black war wizard's outfit. His gold cape cascaded down his shoulders, glistening in the afternoon sunlight. Occasionally he would cast worried looks toward her, his warm brown eyes filled with concern.

Taking in a deep breath, she eased back into the cushion and tried to rest. She closed her eyes and tried to think of happier times, like when she was not so damn heavy! As they continued through the city street, Kahlan slowly ran her fingers in circles along her belly, wondering what her daughter would look like. She hoped she would have Richard's eyes. Kahlan let her thoughts wander while she was carried through the streets of Aydindril and out to the army camp outside the city walls. She took in the sights of the camp, pleased to see that it was orderly and clean. As they past the soldiers Kahlan could not help but feel sorry for them. So many were young and were facing an enemy far superior in both size and experience. She almost wanted to call off the whole war and surrender, but then she remembered what happened to the cities that fell under the Order's boot.

Arriving at the command tent, Richard held out a hand, which she took, scooting around until she could swing her legs over the side of the litter. Spirits, she felt like a large sow. Richard wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers tenderly playing across her swollen belly, as he led her into the tent.

"Lord Rahl!" General Reibisch stood and saluted when they entered. The man's green eyes caught sight of her and he bowed. "Mother Confessor, you honor us with your presence."

"Please, don't trouble yourselves on my account," Kahlan forced on a smile, still finding it odd to be standing in the middle of a D'Haran encampment, surrounded by D'Haran soldiers. However, she had begun to grow accustomed to how the D'Harans treated her. Even Cara seemed to treat her differently now that she was with child. It was like they were all concerned for her safety. Kahlan suspected it had more to do with her carrying the future heir of D'Hara than anything else.

"What news from the front?" Richard inquired, helping Kahlan to a chair by the large table that had a map of the three territories laid out over it. He perched himself behind her, resting his hands on the tall wooden backrest of the chair.

Kahlan squirmed around until she was comfortable, and then arched her neck to look over the map. In a way, seeing how the pieces were arranged on the map was more frightening than reading the reports. The red units showed where the D'Harans were, while the green and blue indicated the Alliance troops. Grey had been selected to represent the Imperial Order, and Kahlan shuddered seeing how much of the map was covered in grey.

General Sheldon, a wide-eyed man with peppery grey hair and a long sage cloak, gestured towards Tamarang. "My Keltish scouts of seen a garrison of the Order troops move into the castle at Tamarang," he said in a deep gravely voice. "It appears they are using the Callisidrin River to ferry supplies up from the south."

"Why would they need to do that?" Kahlan abruptly asked. Everyone stopped and stared at her for a moment. Richard cleared his throat, and General Sheldon gave a nod.

"As you know, Mother Confessor," he said, running his fingers up the map to the central Midlands. "The central valley is not the only place the Order is sending troop. They have battalions crossing over into the west. There are rumors that the Anders have even signed a treaty with them."

"The Anders are fools!" another general scowled. "They spend all their time pretending to be the holiest of the Creator's followers, when they are just a bunch of hypocrites."

"Then why are you surprised by this, general?" a softer more feminine voice spoke up.

Kahlan had not realized it before, but she was not the only woman attending this meeting. She looked up, glancing to her right, seeing the long blonde hair framing the beautiful face of the former Sister of the Dark, turned ally and friend. The sorceress raised a graceful hand and gestured down at the map, gliding her fingers over the ink markings of the Old World.

"Brother Narev and the Brotherhood of the Order claim to be the divine disciples of the Creator, as does this Sovereign of the Anders," Nicci said, looking around the table at all the battle harden soldiers, herself looking very out of place in her simple black dress that hugged her exquisite frame. "I do not find it surprising in the least that the Anders would ally themselves with the Order. They both blindly follow dogma, unwilling to question it or punished severely when they do."

General Reibisch gave a gruff nod. "The lass is right," he said. "The Anders never wanted to be part of the Midlands, even after the Lord Rahl united them with D'Hara to oppose the Order."

"Can we do anything for those trapped in the west?" Kahlan asked, worried for those Midlanders that were not safe with the rest of them here in the north.

Reibisch and Sheldon exchanged a look, and the former shook his head. "I am afraid not, Mother Confessor," he said, gesturing to the map. "With the Order advancing on Ten Oaks, we are practically cut off from the rest of the Midlands. The scouts from the Kelton division have been the only ones lucky enough to slip past the vanguard of the enemy to scout out the rest of the Midlands."

Sheldon gave a nod. "I'm sorry, Mother Confessor, but there is little we can do for them," he sighed. "They are on their own."

Kahlan closed her eyes and said a soft prayer to the good spirits for those poor souls trapped behind the lines. Richard looked down at her and squeezed her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "Back to the front," he said, turning the focus back to the reason for the meeting. "How long can our men hold back the Order from Ten Oaks."

"I give them a week," Sheldon said and Reibisch concurred with that assessment. Richard looked around at the other generals and commanders, they all seemed in completely agreement.

The Lord Rahl took a deep breath and lowered his hand. Kahlan reached out and gripped his hand in hers, giving him a comforting squeeze and a reassuring nod. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he raised his head and looked out at his men.

"Order the retreat, then," he said. "We're going to have to make a stand here in Aydindril."

"I will use what magic I have left to reinforce the walls," Nicci said.

Richard gave a thankful nod. "Thank you, Nicci," he tried to speak with confidence, but Kahlan knew him well enough to know that he was feeling defeated. "But I don't think it will help much."

"Well, just the same, the men will welcome it, Lord Rahl," Reibisch said, giving a nod to Nicci.

"All right," Richard said. "Have any of you seen Zedd? I've been looking for him since this morning. He may not have subtractive magic, but he is still the First Wizard and he can help."

"The First Wizard and Sister Verna are working on mixing together the compounds to make Dragon's Breath," Captain Meiffert spoke up for the first time.

Reibisch gave a boisterous laugh. "That would certainly help," he said, resting his hands on the table as he leaned over the map, looking down at the battle lines.

Sheldon nodded and pointed out a hill outcropping just before Aydindril. Kahlan recognized the location; it was not that far from this camp. "If the wizard can get us some Dragon's Breath, we can place mines along the perimeter," he suggested.

"Good idea," Richard said, leaning forward. "If anything, it will give us an early warning."

"When the time comes, Lord Rahl," Reibisch said, narrowing his green eyes. "Do you want to make a stand outside the walls, or behind them?"

Richard hesitated, looking down at Kahlan for a moment. She could see the indecision in his eyes and knew that he wished he could discuss the strategies with her in private before having to make a decision, but time was running out. She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know that she would back any decision he made.

"Behind the walls," he decided.

"Right," Reibisch gave a nod, and leaned back.

As the generals and commanders began planning the striking of camp and the movement of the troops to the barracks and other empty buildings inside the city, Richard stepped aside to speak with Captain Meiffert. Kahlan sat there, feeling useless as all the men moved about. She was embarrassed that she had been unaware about the Anders making a deal with the Order. It left her feeling like she was not helping.

"How are you doing, Kahlan?"

Kahlan looked up to see Nicci standing before her. The sorceress had her hands folded together around her middle and wore a neutral expression. "I've been better," Kahlan admitted. Nicci was one of the few people she felt she could confide in, something that never failed to amaze her. Almost a year ago Nicci had been avidly seeking her death, and now she was one of Kahlan's closest friends. It was Richard that had changed the sorceress. It was Richard that had changed a lot of people.

Nicci gave an understanding nod. "I won't presume to know what you're going through, never being in you're condition, myself," the sorceress replied. "But I don't know if I could carry it as well as you."

Kahlan blinked, confused.

The sorceress smiled and knelt down, lowering her voice. "Being in your condition is difficult in itself without having to worry about Richard losing interest," she explained.

"What?" Kahlan felt her chest tightened.

Nicci frowned, and inched closer, looking over her shoulder at Richard, still engaged in a discussion with the young D'Haran captain of the First File. "He still comes to your bed," Nicci elaborated. "Where I grew up, once a man's wife was with child, he'd lose interest in her, sexually, and would seek out companionship somewhere else."

The sorceress must have noticed Kahlan's appalled look, because she patted her arm reassuringly. "I don't think you have to worry," she said. "Richard loves you, and with the majority of his memories gone, you're the only one he truly knows and trusts. He doesn't even listen to me as much as he did before the Chimes were released."

Kahlan sighed and gave a nod.

"Though," Nicci continued, sounding more like she was thinking aloud than really talking to her, "I myself would be worried if there was a version of me walking around the palace, constantly reminding my lover of how I looked before my body started to change."

Kahlan inhaled deeply and looked over her shoulder, seeing Cynthia standing outside with Ruthy. She knitted her eyebrows together, her mind already creating scenarios that disturbed her. Was that the reason Richard had stopped coming to her at midday? Kahlan was now convinced he was going to Cynthia to satisfy his urges. That had to be it. That had to be the answer to why he had stop coming to her, and why their lovemaking wasn't as long or tender as it had been. There had to be a reason, other than the toils of the war, and Kahlan was convinced this was it. It was a mistake of her to allow Cynthia to stay. She should have sent her away. She should not have been so kind to the harlot!

The sorceress immediately noticed the affect of her statement and she tried to retract it, but it was too late. It had already been spoken aloud. "Kahlan, I… I didn't mean that, I'm sorry, I was just thinking aloud," Nicci looked beside herself in worry. "Please, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she said. "Do not worry yourself over me. Concentrate on defending the city."

Kahlan looked at her friend, feeling no ill will toward her. She was right, after all. Kahlan could tell that Richard was no longer satisfied making love to her. Her proof was the change in their lovemaking over the past week. It was not as tender or loving as before, and Richard was concentrating more on his own pleasure than hers, which was not like him. He always thought of her. It was just part of his character. He must have wanted someone who could respond more to him, someone who was not exhausted or bloated or emotionally unstable, for that matter. Kahlan looked down and knitted her eyebrows together, putting on her confessor's face. She would let him have his fun, for now. He needed the release. But after she gave birth, she was going to reassert her authority as his wife.

Richard came over looking all innocent and spoke with Nicci for a bit, completely oblivious to the fact Kahlan knew his secret. She just wanted to leave, but he kept talking. Nicci looked worried and anxious, trying to end the conversation, but Richard just would not shut up. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he helped her into the litter and walked back to the Confessor's Palace with her.

Back in her bedchambers, Kahlan tersely dismissed Cynthia, telling the woman, who was obviously stealing her husband, to fetch her some supper, and called for Ruthy. The young maidservant helped her out of her dress and into a nightgown. Kahlan picked out one she thought look seductive, but felt ugly when she looked at herself in the mirror. Ruthy tried to reassure her that she was beautiful, but Kahlan just shook her head, not believing it.

When Cynthia returned with her supper, Kahlan was already sitting in bed. She had the maidservant serve her the meal, and then she ordered her away. Kahlan watched as Cynthia left, hating the way the simple servant gown clung to her slim figure. She could not help but think that she used to look like that. Kahlan understood why Richard would want to sleep with Cynthia, when she, his wife, was all fat and gross. Feeling that way, she neglected her supper and had Ruthy take it away.

"Ruthy," she called, before the maidservant left.

Ruthy turned back and inclined her head. "Yes, Mother Confessor?"

"Are you capable of serving me alone?" Kahlan inquired, hatching a scheme to punish Cynthia.

"Mother Confessor?"

"Answer me."

"Yes, I suppose I am," Ruthy answered hesitantly.

Kahlan gave a nod. "Then you shall," she said, smiling. She liked her plan. "Tell Cynthia that she is now to work in the kitchens as a simple scullion."

Ruthy appeared stunned, and her mouth dropped, looking like she wanted to object, but then she merely nodded her head. "Yes, Mother Confessor."

Kahlan watched as the maidservant left and closed the door. She smirked, pleased with herself. Perhaps that would keep the girl too busy to serve Richard. He'd have to come to his wife now for release. There was still a part of her that suspected she was imagining things, but her mind suppressed those thoughts, asserting that she was right. That Richard was going to her look-alike for sex and not her, the real Kahlan. Closing her eyes, she tried to rest, wanting to have energy enough to please Richard when he came to bed. However, he did not come that night, and Kahlan ended up crying herself to sleep, believing that he was with Cynthia.


	19. A Terrible Mistake

"Pass me another one, my boy," the old wizard called back.

Richard gave a nod, and turned back to the cart. The horse neighed slightly, and Richard gave its flank a pat, reassuring it. It made a snort of acknowledgement and padded its front hoof against the ground and bobbed its head as if it understood. Reaching the back of the cart, Richard heaved up one of the round metal disks and walked back to the wizard.

Zedd raised his eyebrows as the disk passed between them. "Ingenious plan, don't you think?"

"I'll remember to tell General Sheldon you said that," Richard said, smirking.

"That's just what we need," scoffed Zedd. "Sheldon's got a big enough head already, no need feeding his over-exaggerated ego."

Richard frowned and shook his head, watching as the old man stooped down and placed the disk on the ground. He knelt down and fiddled with the workings until there was a clicking noise.

"There!" Zedd stepped back.

With a spade in hand, Richard dug up some dirt and sprinkled the soil over the round metal disk, hiding it. It was not perfect, but in the heat of battle, it was enough. Turning back around, Richard shook his head, watching as Zedd polished an apple on his robes before taking a large bite, making a loud snapping noise. Zedd chewed noisily, and smacked his lips. Noticing Richard's look, the First Wizard smirked and reached inside his robes, producing another apple.

"Care for something to eat?" his grandfather inquired.

"Sure," Richard replied, catching the apple as Zedd tossed it over. He breathed on it and brushed it on his vest jacket before taking a bite.

Zedd let out an annoying laugh as the apple's juices ran down his chin. "Shall we continue, my boy?"

Nodding, Richard stepped up to the horse and lowered the apple to the animal's muzzle. The horse happily nibbled at the apple core as Richard grabbed the bridle and led the way. Zedd followed alongside him, munching on his own apple. Despite their playful banter, Richard had come to respect and admire the wizard. He even felt pride in the fact that Zedd was his grandfather, a fact he only knew because of his wife. Kahlan was the only person he remembered from his past. He did not know what he would have done if he did not have her.

Richard regretted not being with her tonight, having sensed her growing despair and anxiety during the strategy meeting. She had been unusually silent, which distressed him. Kahlan was the person he trusted the most and it disturbed him that he had been unable to consult with her prior to making the decisions regarding the defense of Aydindril. After all it was her home. Richard wanted nothing more than to be with her and hold her in his arms, comforting and soothing her of her worries. However, his attention was required here, overseeing the placement of the mines embedded with Dragon's Breath.

He would have told Kahlan what he was doing, but he did not want to worry her, which she did easily nowadays. Knowing how fragile and volatile Dragon's Breath could be, Richard was worried himself. But it was for her safety that he was doing this. Richard would do anything to keep that beautiful confessor safe. Anything. She was all he knew, his entire world.

"Fascinating stuff, Dragon's Breath, don't you think?" questioned Zedd, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Dangerous is more like it," Richard chuckled as he brought the horse a to stop, patting its neck reassuringly.

"Nonsense!" Zedd huffed, his broad face stretching into a big grin. "All you need to know is the right compounds, the right mix and  _BAM_! You've got yourself Dragon's Breath."

" _BAM_? Yes," Richard nodded. "But what about the  _boom_?"

Zedd gave an impish smile and winked. "I like the way you think, my boy," he rubbed his chin and squinted out at the hills in the dim moonlight. "If we place a bunch of mines in that low part over there…" Zedd pointed a scythe-like finger towards the location a couple of yards away. "It should provide a nice 'boom,' as you say."

Richard took a deep breath and nodded, narrowing his eyes as he looked down the line of perimeter, seeing the faint outlines of the others in the distance. "How do you think the others are fairing?" Richard asked, glancing back at his grandfather.

The wizard squinted out at the others, his silvery bushy eyebrows knitting together. "Don't you worry, Richard," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "Nicci and Verna are quite capable of handling any problems, and General Reibisch is a fine commander. He keeps the men orderly and at the ready." A thin wiry smirk spread across the wizard's wrinkled face. "Not to mention Warren. The lad is smart, Richard. Devilishly smart! I can't wait until this war is over and we've dealt with the Chimes. I'm going to have marvelous fun completing that lad's training."

"I'm sure you will, Zedd," Richard said, furrowing his brow, not entirely sure what his grandfather was going on about.

Richard remembered be introduced to a young man with curly blond hair, but he did not remember anyone saying he was a wizard. Richard had thought he was just a scholar working at the Wizard's Keep. Then again, he had no memories of his grandfather. All he could remember of Zedd was when he and Cynthia, Kahlan's double, had first arrived in Aydindril. While his thoughts were on this, Zedd had placed another mine and covered it with some dirt particles.

Reaching up and grabbing the bridle, Richard led the horse on to their next spot along the perimeter. He was hoping this defensive plan would help. Though he was growing worried that with such a large force, the Imperial Order would have no problem using their men as cannon fodder, sending wave after wave into the mine field until a path had been cleared. Walking beside him, Zedd seemed to sense his concern. He placed a weathered hand on his shoulder.

"Do not fret, my boy," he said. "You are still the Seeker… and the Lord Rahl—something I still cannot believe, by the way. Though, I find it odd that I've gotten used to the constant Mord'Sith shadow." Zedd glanced over his shoulder and gave a wave to the two Mord'Sith shadowing them. "I suppose its not all bad, now is it?"

"What do you mean?" Richard inquired.

"Well, to top off all that, you're married to an extraordinary woman," Zedd said, grinning.

Richard smiled slightly at that, thinking of her. Spirits, how he loved her! No matter what he was doing or where he was, he always thought of her. Kahlan Amnell was always in his thoughts. Always. Thinking of her, he lowered his brow and frowned, feeling guilty for being out here instead of in their bed with her. It had been a while since he had truly made love to her. Sure he had had sex with Kahlan, but that had not been lovemaking. It would never be lovemaking unless he brought his love to release as well, and that was something he was failing at doing, as of late. He vowed, that after this preparation was finished, he would make it up to his gorgeous wife.

With his grandfather, Richard continued placing the mines along their section of the perimeter. This could have been a job for the rank and file, but Richard had felt that this was a job he should do personally, and both Nicci and Zedd had agreed. Even Verna lent her support to the idea, believing it best for those experienced with Dragon's Breath should handle the mines' placement. When Darken Rahl had employed them in his war against the Midlands, he had used his purchased wizards to position the lethal instruments.

As the night waned on, Richard missed Kahlan more and more. He prayed that she wasn't worrying too much. She needed her rest. Not just for herself, but also for the child she was carrying within. Zedd placed another mine, and Richard used the spade to shovel up some dirt and sprinkle the dark soil over the mine. They continued down the line, planting mines up and down the hillside. Zedd continued making comments, telling him stories of things long forgotten. Richard listened intently, wanting to know as much as he could about the past.

By the time the sun was starting to peak over the horizon, Richard was dead tired. The old wizard seemed none the worse for wear, but then again, his grandfather had been nipping at something in a flask. Richard had inquired about it once, but when Zedd would answer him, all he could hear was garbled babbling that made no sense. Blinking in the light of the growing day, Richard let out a sigh, yawning, and leaned against the spade for support, as he grew fatigued.

"Why don't you get some sleep, Richard," Zedd suggested. "Go back to that lovely wife of yours and rest."

"What about you?" Richard asked, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'll do fine, my boy," the wizard reassured him. "I've slept long enough in my lifetime. Besides, someone needs to make sure these mines get placed properly."

Richard gave a nod, and signaled to the Mord'Sith. The blonde haired women came over. "I'm going back to the Confessor's Palace to get some sleep," he informed them. "Erika, stay with Zedd." He turned to the other one. "Hally, you're with me."

Hally nodded and followed him as Richard started off towards the city gates. He took a deep breath, looking forward to seeing his beloved wife, Kahlan Amnell.

XXX

Feeling hungry, Richard steered their way through the city streets, fighting against his growling belly as he walked past the huddled groups of soldiers who assembled in the squares for the morning meal. Once the city had been evacuated and the majority of its citizens escorted across the mountains to D'Hara, the army cooks had taken to setting up bonfires in the many squares, as gathering locations for the distributing of grub. Even though it was just army rations, Richard still found the aroma appetizing.

However, being the Lord Rahl and husband of the Mother Confessor did have some advantages, as in he could sneak into the kitchens at the Confessor's Palace and get Miss Sanderholt to give him some freebees. Hally walked beside him, fiddling with the golden braid that she slung over her shoulder, her D'Haran blue eyes gazing out at the men. He smirked, seeing how her eyes widen when some of the men removed the shirts, exposing their brawny chests, as they poured water over themselves. It was a quick and easy way to clean oneself in an army camp, something Richard had done quiet often when he was amongst the men.

"See anyone you like?" he asked to his bodyguard.

Hally blushed when she realized that he had noticed her leering of the men. "Before you were Lord Rahl, I never really thought of men as anything other than animals that needed to be leased and broken…," her words trailed off as they passed a group of men competing in an impromptu wrestling tournament.

"And now?" Richard chuckled seeing her mouth drop as the men's tawny brawn bodies collided in an impact of sweat and dirt.

Her pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she pulled her eyes away from the sight and glanced over at him, blushing a bright pink. "They are a little more interesting now," she squeaked out, her voice laced with embarrassment as her body became aroused at the sight of the half-clothed soldiers.

Richard smiled and turned his attention back to where he was going. "You'll eventually discover the joys of having a relationship with another," he said, always enjoying talking with these women who were still desperately trying to recapture their lost humanity. Out of all of them, the one called Cara, who seemed to be a close friend to him and Kahlan, had broken out of that shell of a Mord'Sith the most. She had found pleasure in her relationship with the D'Haran Captain of the First File, and Richard even believed that she was in love. He knew Meiffert was in love with the Mord'Sith; it was obvious the way his eyes would constantly dart over to Cara while they were in a meeting.

Hally smiled softly. "We Mord'Sith have you to thank for that possibility, Lord Rahl," she said. "And the Mother Confessor. Without either of you, we would still be slaves to our training. Now…"

"Now you can be whatever you want to be," Richard finished.

"Yes," Hally nodded. "And we all gladly serve you and the Mother Confessor. You are perhaps the first Lord Rahl that any of us would die for, not out of duty, but out of respect and love for you."

"Love?" he smirked.

Hally immediately flustered and blushed, looking thunderstruck that she had actually spoken those words aloud. "I… I didn't mean to say that I was in love with you, Lord Rahl. Oh, not that I don't respect or admire you…," the Mord'Sith quickly began to stammer, worried that she was offending him with everything coming out of her mouth.

Richard came to a stop before the steps to the Confessor's Palace and turned, placing a reassuring hand on the Mord'Sith's leather-clad shoulder. "Don't worry, Hally, I know what you mean," he informed her. "And we'll keep this between ourselves, all right?"

The Mord'Sith took a deep breath and nodded gratefully. She would no doubt be extremely humiliated should any of the other Mord'Sith learn that she had babbled incoherently in front of the Lord Rahl. Richard shook his head slightly, giving a half smile, before continuing up the steps. Deciding that he was going to pester Miss Sanderholt for some food first, Richard turned away from the big double doors of the main entrance and sought out the kitchen entrance. It was not hard to find, the smells and delicious aromas the drifted through the air led him to the small quaint door that opened up into the kitchens.

Stepping inside, he was pleasantly assaulted by all the wonderful smells and aromas of the foods being cooked there. He looked around, searching for Miss Sanderholt. As his eyes scanned the workers, he paused, seeing someone he had not expected to see down here. She was working at one of the cooking tables, cutting vegetables. Her hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail, but he'd recognized that cute little bottom anywhere. Smiling mischievously, Richard tiptoed up behind her.

Brushing her ponytail aside, Richard quickly started planting kisses on her supple neck. She immediately tensed, which surprised him. It was not the reaction he had expected from his beloved. Kahlan loved it when he came up behind her and started kissing her neck. He chuckled softly. Kahlan could be so amusingly adorable at times. He continued nibbling at her neck, placing a hand on her hip, before bring his other hand up to wrap his arms around her waist, wanting to feel the swell of her belly, loving what it signified. That is when he noticed that something was wrong… horribly wrong.

"Lord Rahl!" Richard blinked and looked up, seeing a shocked Rikka staring at him from the door archway.

Almost immediately afterwards the terrible mistake he had just made became all too clear. Standing behind Rikka, dressed all in white, her long dark hair running down her shoulders, was the woman he thought he had been kissing. She clutched her swollen belly as her chest heaved up and down, her eyes widening in staggering dismay.

"I knew it!" Kahlan hissed, seething with anger. She raised a hand and pointed at the woman Richard was standing next to. "You were with her last night! You two-timing bastard!"

Richard's jaw dropped, and panic ran through his veins. He looked over at the woman he was standing next to, his hand still on her hip. It was Cynthia, the woman from the Old World who looked exactly like his Kahlan. Cynthia's brow was furrowed and she looked terrified and distressed. He quickly removed his hand from her hip and took a step towards Kahlan, concerned when he saw her eyes begin to water.

"Please, Kahlan, let me exp—"

Kahlan narrowed her eyes and glared at him. She huffed and spun on her heels, marching away as fast as she could, her hair flowing in her wake. Richard rushed past the tables, reaching out for her, but all he was able to grab was air.

"Kahlan… wait!" he called after her, his heart breaking, knowing that he had caused her to cry.

He made a move to follow, but Rikka stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. She shook her head as if she was disappointed, before going after the distraught confessor. Hally rushed forward to stand beside him, a stunned look of horror plastered on her face. Slumping his shoulders, feeling disgusted with himself for not noticing the difference between Cynthia and Kahlan—the woman he loved, Richard turned back, seeing the entire cooking staff looking at him.

XXX

Kahlan buried her head in her hands as she heard him call her name as she fled from the kitchen. She could not bring herself to turn and look back at him. Spirits, she thought that she had come to terms with this last night, knowing that he was most likely bedding Cynthia because she, his wife, was just too repulsive to him right now. But did he have to kiss the whore openly in front of the entire cooking staff, and with such enjoyment!

Grounding her teeth, she hardened herself, directing her rage towards Richard. She knew he had his faults, what with his memory being taken from him, but damn it, he said he remembered her! And she had thought that it was the memories of their love for each other that had been returned. Well, obviously she was mistaken. It was just his memory of his lust for her body that had returned him. Why else would he had made love to her so many times, even taking her from behind when her belly began getting in the way. But as soon as she was too large for him to enjoy more fully, he went crawling into the bed of the woman who looked like her from before she had become with child.

Spirits, she angry… and humiliated. Everyone had seen Richard kissing Cynthia and not her! They knew that he had forsaken the bed of his wife to go to the bed of a cheap rip-off of her. Kahlan clenched her jaw tight as the tears came pouring out. She did not know if she could take this, being openly cheated on by Richard. The D'Harans had probably been expecting this to happen, as the Lord Rahl had always had a mistress… and usually more than one. But Kahlan had always believed that Richard, not being raised as a Rahl, would be different. That his love for her was so strong and pure that he would never cheat on her. Never.

But she had been wrong. Spirits, how she had been wrong! Richard was bedding Cynthia. Not only that, he was probably having drunken orgies with all his loyal Mord'Sith. She saw how all those pretty young women looked at him, following him like love sick puppies. There were only two Mord'Sith she could trust: Cara, because she had Benjamin Meiffert and was truly in love with him, and Rikka, who had never left her side. She could hear her footsteps behind her, and knew that she was safe with her. Rikka was her friend.

Stopping at the great stairs in the marble foyer of the Confessor's Palace, Kahlan turned around, hugging herself, as she waited for her friend to catch up. She hated to admit it, but she needed someone's shoulder to cry on. It was hard always being strong. Kahlan felt terrible that she was even wishing that Richard's seed had never quickened inside her, helping to spark life within her womb. Whatever was growing in there had made her feel bloated, fat, and unattractive.

Rikka was with her in a matter of moments, and Kahlan was soon wrapped up in leather-clad arms that creaked and groaned as the Mord'Sith rocked her back and forth gently in a protective and comforting embrace. Kahlan buried her head on Rikka's shoulder and bawled her heart out, not caring that her cries of anguish and heartache could be heard echoing off the tall beams of the entrance hall.

The Mord'Sith held her in her arms as she guided them up the grand staircase, heading towards the Mother Confessor's bedchambers. Kahlan closed her eyes and just focused on the shock and grief over having her fears confirmed. She had woke that morning feeling ashamed that she had even thought such things, and had gone to the kitchens to apologize to Cynthia for thinking that she would have enticed the Lord Rahl into cheating on the Mother Confessor. However, her happy and remorseful mood had been shattered when she glimpsed Richard standing behind Cynthia, with his hands on her hips, and his lips on her neck.

Of course she registered the look of terror and panic on the duplicate's face, yet Kahlan was sure that that was not from being surprised by Richard, but from being discovered by the Mother Confessor. And then Richard had the audacity to try and explain it. But this was not like that time in the woods, when he had just lost his memories and the Sister of the Dark had just abducted her. Back then, he had no idea that there were two Kahlans, so to speak. But now… damn it, now he knew and he just could not resist having a taste of both of them.

They reached her bedchambers, and Rikka called out for Ruthy for assistance. The maidservant helped Kahlan inside and the two, maidservant and Mord'sith, undressed her and put her in a simple nightgown, taking her to bed. Kahlan laid there in her misery, refusing to eat or drink. By midday Rikka had to resort to force-feeding Kahlan to ensure that she was getting the nutrition she needed to keep up her strength for the baby. All the while, Kahlan just grieved over the truth she had learned about her scam of a marriage to Richard.

It made Kahlan feel disgusted and dirty, knowing that she had been sharing a bed with him, while all the time Richard had most likely waited until she had fallen asleep, then snuck out to have his sexual liaisons with his many mistresses. That had to be the reason why he had stopped coming to her in the afternoon for a quickie, and why there times in bed before sleep had grown shorter and rougher. He was just doing conjugal duties with her, making love to her as quickly as possible, so he could then slink out and seek his pleasure somewhere else.

Sleep did not come easy, but when it did, Kahlan was interrupted in the middle of the night by Ruthy, who looked distressed and concerned. The young maidservant knelt by the bed and looked at her with big eyes.

"The Lord Rahl wishes to see you, Mother Confessor," Ruthy said, her voice meek and afraid.

Kahlan lowered her brow, and scowled. "Send him away. Tell him to go back to his whore," she growled. "If he wants to thrust himself inside someone tonight, let it be her!"

XXX

Ruthy came stumbling out of the door, her face a mask of distress. She came over to him and bit her lower lip, trying to cease its trembling. Richard gulped, not liking the look he saw on her face. It was not the look he had been hoping for.

"I… I'm sorry, Lord Rahl," Ruthy squeaked out. "But the Mother Confessor will not see you."

Richard swallowed the bile in his mouth at having Kahlan deny him entrance to their bedchambers. He gritted his teeth and gave a nod. "If she shall need me… I will be out in the fields with the men, placing the mines," he informed the maidservant.

Ruthy gave a nod. "If she inquires, I shall tell her," she bowed her head.

Richard clenched his jaw, holding back the tears that threatened to come out at the thought of Kahlan thinking the worse of him. He turned to walk away when Nicci stepped out of the shadows. He immediately stopped, startled, letting out a breath of relief to see that it was only the blonde sorceress.

"What is it, Nicci?" he asked, wincing at how his voice sounded.

The sorceress tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind an ear. "I was just checking up on you," Nicci said.

He sighed and raked his hand through his hair in frustration. "Kahlan's acting irrational," Richard said. "She's accused me of sleeping with Cynthia."

"Did you?" Nicci asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Richard knitted his eyebrows together. "Never!"

"But you did before," Nicci said, stepping closer. "Kahlan told us… Cara and me, that is." Richard tensed. "You remember, don't you?" the sorceress narrowed her eyes.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Richard looked down feeling ashamed. "I… I thought she was Kahlan," he said. "I had not yet got my memories of her back yet. And… and she was so insistent." It was not his fault that a Sister of the Dark found a duplicate Kahlan and switched them on him. Besides, he had stopped it before it had gone any further than it had. Still, he felt guilty having gone as far as he had with Cynthia. He pushed by Nicci, feeling angry.

Richard was growing tired of all this: The Chimes, the war, Kahlan's constant doubting of him. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to fix this. He was going to make Kahlan realize that she was the only woman he loved. The only one he ever wanted to be with.


	20. Nighttime Consoling

At that very moment the only thing he wanted to do was go to her and convince her of his undying love for her and her alone, but he knew that now was not the right time for it, even if he wished it to be. Kahlan was not in a mood to listen to him, not now, not tonight. And for what he had in mind, he was going to need her in a more responsive mood.

Sulking in the shadows along the hall, he paced back and forth, grasping his hands behind his back as he thought about what he had to do to convince the woman he loved that he… well that he still loved her. His memories had been stolen from him, and then when he finally got back the ones that were more precious to him than anything, he had gone and been a complete ass. He should have looked more closely, been more aware of the differences, instead of simply assuming that it was Kahlan in the kitchens.

Spirits, how could he be so stupid! He knew that Cynthia was around, and that she was working as a maidservant. He should have been more observant. Letting out a great sigh, he told himself not to dwell on the past, but to think on the future. Just like the mantra Zedd had kept repeating to him while they were discussing what had happened:  _Think of the solution, not the problem_. But no matter how hard he tried to think on the positive side of things, he could not. Everything around him seemed to be falling apart, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it.

First it had been his memories being stolen from him, then it was finding out that the woman he had arrived with in Aydindril was not his wife—like he had believed, but an imposter, one who had been forced into doing what she had done by a Sister of the Dark, whose true loyalties were unclear. This Sister Bree either worked for the Imperial Order, or still served the Keeper. He did not know which it was, but either way she had made things extremely complicated for him. Which, no doubt, is what she had intended from the first.

Grounding his teeth, he racked his fingers through his unruly hair and rubbed his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble that covered face. Spirits, he was exhausted, and as much as he wished he could go to their bedchambers and snuggle up close to Kahlan, he knew she would not allow it. Not tonight. She had her mind set to being angry with him. And there was nothing more terrifying than an angry woman heavy with child. Only the Creator truly knows what she'd do to him if he forced his way into their bed.

Pausing in his pacing, Richard tried scowling at the wall, but it did not help. He let out a breath and slumped his shoulders in defeat, not knowing what to do. He thought about what Nicci had said, and he hated to admit it, but she had been right. He had enjoyed himself when he had been with Cynthia in the woods. But in his defense, his memories had just been taken from him and he was still in a daze, and… and she had been so beautiful. Her supple flesh calling to him, her eyes sparkling. And the swell of her breast, as they fought against the constraints of her corset, had been oh so tempting. The dewy moistness of the rain coating her creamy flesh made her glisten. Not really knowing who he was, or who  _she_  was, only that she had claimed to be his wife, Richard had ached to be with her. And when she had kissed him and exposed herself to him, shoving his head into her breasts, he had simply lost control, shedding inhibition to the wind to just be with the gorgeous woman.

Now, upon retrospect, he regretted what he had done, and how he had ignored the nagging concerns and questions in his mind. There had been little clues to the differences in the real and false Kahlan. And now, having tasted both of them, in a manner of speaking, he knew the difference as clear as if it was glass and wondered how, in all that was sacred and right, he could have forgotten the Kahlan he loved!

When real Kahlan had returned to Aydindril and found him kissing Cynthia, he had thought she was going to be angry with him, maybe even leave him all together, saying that they were through. But she had not. Sure she had slapped him something fierce—which he deserved, of course—but then she gave him a kiss that transcended all kisses. It had been a kiss that held more love and passion than anything the Kahlan he had thought was the real one had given him.

Then, instead of sending him away, she had him taken to her bedchambers. He had been worried and concerned about what she might say or do. Not having his memories of her, he still somehow knew that she was important to him and he did not know what he would have done if he lost her. As he had waited, he had grown tired and to his regret, fell asleep. And when he awoke, it was to her taking him into her mouth, trying to stimulate and entice him into making love to her.

It was all too much like what Cynthia had done in the forest. It pained him deeply when he pushed Kahlan back and refused her request. Richard had wanted to make love to her, more than anything, but the similarities between her and Cynthia had been too overwhelming and he was so confused. However then everything changed when she took his hand and placed it over her stomach and told him her news… her glorious news. She was with child… his child! After hearing that, Richard simply had to have her. He just had too.

Being with Kahlan—the real Kahlan—was miraculous and wonderful. He treasured every moment of it, never wanting it to end. And somehow, it still puzzled him and he still did not know how or why it had happened, but his memories of her were restored. After being hit with the feelings and the surge of memories, Richard had looked down upon Kahlan in a whole knew light. He remembered her and his love for her. He had been so thrilled to have his memories returned… but that glee dwindled somewhat when he realized that not all of his memories had been restored, just the ones involving Kahlan.

Other things that were associated with her, but not directly related to her, were still a blur… hidden behind the fog in his mind. He remembered first encountering that ethereal creature, all in white, as she ran through the woods of his home… at least he thought it was the woods of his homeland, he couldn't really remember. And he could not recall what she had been running from or how he had then saved her from… from what, he did not know. However, despite his frustrations with his lack of other memories, there was one thing that was crystal clear to him. And that was his love for the woman named Kahlan Amnell.

It was a pure love, one that wrapped his whole being in a comforting warmth, like being covered with a cozy blanket. It was something he would never grow tired of. Richard found it had to believe that such an exquisite woman could ever love him. What had he done to deserve her love? He pulled up his hand and gazed upon the gold band that rested upon his finger. Nothing would make him part from this ring or from the woman he had made a promise to when he had put it on. It was more than just the fact she was the only person he truly knew. He loved her, with all his being, and would gladly lay down his life if it meant she would live.

"Richard?" a familiar voice called him from his thoughts.

XXX

Verna stood in the doorway gazing out at the man, whom, despite their physical age difference, loved her like no other man had ever loved her. His curly blond hair had grown longer over the last couple of months and he even had a scruffy looking beard that he thought made himself look older. She thought he did not need to look older, but he begged to differ, saying he had to have some more gravitas to be taken seriously by the soldiers defending the city.

"But they already take you seriously, Warren," Verna had whispered back as they laid in their bed in the Wizard's Keep.

"Well, perhaps its just me, then," he answered slowly. "Maybe I just need to take myself seriously."

"What about the Warren I love?" Verna had asked, curling up next to him, running her hand over his chest. "Will he still be there when you've become serious?"

Warren turned on to his side, and then gave her a beaming smile. "He'll always be there, my love," he purred and kissed her deeply, as he moved over her, pushing her legs apart with his knee.

Verna leaned against the door beam, smiling lazily as she remembered the rest of that night. Warren was so tender and passionate in his lovemaking that it often left her breathless. She had never understood what the Seeker had been talking about, during their journey to the Palace of the Prophets, when he spoke of his love for the Mother Confessor, until she had met Warren. It was a happiness that filled her very core, completing a part of her that she had not known was empty.

As if sensing her presence, Warren looked over his shoulder, seeing her and smiled. "Verna, what a pleasant surprise!"

She drifted across the threshold and crossed the distance between them, coming up behind him to rest her hands on his shoulders. He sighed as she slowly began to knead his tight muscles. "You've been reading for hours, Warren. It's late, come to bed… I miss you."

A smile formed on his lips. "Are you offering to help me relieve the stress of the day?" he asked, grinning his boyish grin.

Verna raised an eyebrow and lowered her lips to his ear. "A task I'd be most glad to perform, my studious wizard," she seductively whispered.

"Oh," Warren groaned, arching his head so he could capture her lips in a slow kiss. He moaned into her mouth as she suggestively ran a hand down his chest. "Oh, Verna, I'd love more than anything to come to you're bed, but I believe I'm on to something… something important!"

He turned back to the book in front of him and pointed with a finger towards a series of words that the Sister of the Light could not make out. They were in some ancient language she had seen before in the some of the books down in the vaults beneath the Palace of the Prophets, but had never taken the time to learn. Now, squinting down at the old crusty pages, Verna could not see what it was that had Warren all excited, making him politely decline the offer to come to her bed for a session of lovemaking. She groaned in frustration, knowing that very soon they would have little time to themselves when the Imperial Order arrived to lay siege to Aydindril.

"Warren, can't it wait till morning?" she pleaded. "Everyone else is asleep, and I… I have such a big day tomorrow."

Warren looked apologetic and bit his lower lip, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. "Perhaps your right," he said, placing his hand on the table, pushing back the chair as he stood. "Everyone is either asleep or out working along the perimeter setting up the mines of Dragon's Breath."

He knitted his eyebrows together, looking adorable. His eyes looked down for a moment, staring at his feet. When he looked up, Verna found him staring into her eyes like she had never seen him stare before. It left her breathless. "And we might not have another night alone for quite some time," he added.

Verna nodded.

"It can wait," Warren said, biting his lower lip, still looking like he was only saying it for her benefit, when in truth he probably believed it was more important than indulging in a night of lovemaking. Then he gripped her hand in his and held it to his chest, just above his heart. "But first, let's go see Zedd. There is a task that only the First Wizard can perform, and we need to see him before everything becomes too busy."

Verna opened her mouth, intent on asking exactly what was this task that was going to require them to go out in the middle of the night to disturb the old wizard, when she would rather slink off to their bedchambers and fool around. But, before she could say anything, Warren was already guiding her out of the library and towards the great hall of the Wizard's Keep, heading for the exit.

XXX

Nicci almost lost her breath when he turned around to face her. Even though he was unkempt and looked exhausted, Richard was still a god among men. She bit her lower lip and averted her eyes, feeling a blush form on her pale cheeks. She had not meant to yell is name as loud as she had, but he had looked so lost in his thoughts and had absently wandered off, that she had been worried about him.

"I'm sorry for saying those things," Nicci spoke up, feeling remorseful. When she looked back up into his eyes, she could tell that he believed her. "It was not your fault for what happened in the woods between you and Cynthia. You had no idea she was not Kahlan." She gritted her teeth together, now feeling protective of her friend. "But, spirits, Richard… what were you thinking in the kitchen?"

She watched as Richard sucked in a deep ragged breath and racked his fingers through his unruly hair. "That's just it, Nicci," he replied, looking grief stricken. "I wasn't thinking. And now I've alienated the woman I had intended on spending the evening with."

Nicci's lower lip quivered slightly and she averted her eyes. "I… I know, Richard," she attested in a weak voice. She did not know why she did this to herself. She knew that Richard would never be hers, but it still always hurt when she heard him proclaim his love for Kahlan.

She had never once, in her entire life, been in a more difficult position than she now found herself in. Nicci cared, deeply, for both Richard and Kahlan, but in different ways. Kahlan was almost like the sister she never had. And Richard… well, Richard was the man she loved, yet could never have. Biting her lower lip to stop it from trembling, Nicci glanced back up to see Richard looking at her with an intense gaze. It was almost as if he was reading her thoughts through her expression.

Before he had lost his memories, Richard had known that her feelings for him were beyond that of mere friendship. Spirits, Nicci thought it was plain even to a blind man that she was in love with Richard. She wondered if this Richard, the one with only his memories of Kahlan restored to him, knew what the other Richard had known. As if he was sensing her thoughts, one of the many things the Seeker always seemed to do with people, he gave a knowing grin.

Richard reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, before pulling her into a comforting embrace. Nicci closed her eyes and eased into his hold. She wrapped her arms around him and practically dug her fingers into his shoulders as she gripped him, knowing that this was the closest she would ever get to what Richard would only ever give to Kahlan. Shifting, Nicci rested her head on his shoulder as their embrace lengthened. She could tell that he was trying to give her as much comfort as possible. Spirits, she did not know the last time she had been held in the arms of a man like this, it had been so long.

Taking a deep breath, she eased back and blinked the tears from her eyes before they could fully manifest. "You… you should go to her, Richard," she stated flatly, without much emotion, yet, at the same time, with resolve. "I know she's in a mood, and not really trusting at the moment, but… but she needs you, even if she won't admit it. And… and you need her."

Richard's hands tenderly caressed her arms and he looked at her with a kindness no one else ever really gave her. He was so kind and gentle, and oh so tender. Just his touch was enough to sustain her through the rest of the week; even if it was not the kind of touching she really wanted. She could imagine that later, when she was alone in her bed with nothing but her thoughts.

He smiled at her, that damn smile of his that melted her heart. "You are truly a good friend, Nicci," Richard replied softly, his hands stopping, yet his gaze still boring into her. "It takes a special kind of love to willingly stand by my side knowing that I will never return the feelings you have, while, at the same time, advising me to go to another woman's bed." He paused. "What did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?"

"That would be my question to you," Nicci replied, shocked by his question. And at the revelation this Richard was just as perceptive as the other one. "I doubt very much you would still think the same if you knew how tempted I had been to get you into my bed when I learned of your loss of memory."

"My opinion of you would not change," Richard firmly asserted. He paused, seeming to sense her disbelief. "Nicci, everyone is entitled to his or her own fantasies and desires. Dreaming is what makes us human. It is one of the things worth fighting for. And as for your temptation, you did not act on it… which, in my book, speaks volumes to your character. You remained my true and loyal friend, even when an opportunity opened up that would have given you something that you so desperately wanted."

Nicci took a deep breath. "You are truly a rare person, Richard Rahl," she said. "You managed to upset the woman you love and then comfort the woman who unrequitedly loves you, all in the same day."

Richard gave a shrug. "I'm like that, I guess," he said, really meaning those words, because he truly did not know who he was. Nicci felt great sympathy for him in that regard. Yet her early advice still stood. Kahlan needed Richard, just as Richard needed Kahlan.

"Go to her," she urged again.

He sighed and shook his head. "Not tonight," he said. "I need her to be in a more receptive mindset to get through."

"All right," Nicci nodded. "Then I will go in your stead and try and calm her."

"You don't have to do that," Richard said, raising his eyebrows.

Nicci backed out of his hold, her decision made. "She is my friend," she said. "As are you. And you two need each other. I cannot stand idly by as something trivial tears you apart, especially now, when we are facing a doom on the horizon. Whatever may come, you two need each other."

Richard gave a nod. "Then go… and comfort Kahlan as I cannot right now."

Nicci reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Get some rest, and if I am as convincing as I hope, she will be in a more receptive mood in the morning."

Filling her lungs with much needed air, Nicci hugged herself as she watched the Seeker wandered back down the hallway. She hoped he got some sleep, because he desperately needed it. Clenching her jaw, and setting herself for the task at hand of trying to reason with a mad pregnant woman, Nicci turned around and slowly made her way back to the Mother Confessor's bedchambers.

XXX

A knock came from the door and Kahlan just wanted to yell at them, and demand that they just left her alone. She was in no mood to see anyone. She was the Mother Confessor for crying out loud, and, not to mention, a woman who was heavy with child. She needed her sleep, damn it! Pushing herself up to a sitting position, she narrowed her eyes and lower her brow, suspecting that the all high and righteous Lord Rahl was probably trying to get in again, no doubt to try and explain himself. Like there was anything to explain. Kahlan knew what he wanted, and there was nothing in this world that was going to make her give him that tonight. He could just go to one of his little whores.

The door opened and she crossed her arms, ready to yell out obscenities at that man as he tried to smile his way out of this. But instead of Richard, a slender form, dressed in a tight-fitting black dress, slipped into her room, closing the door behind her. Kahlan squinted in the dim light and furrowed her brow in confusion when she saw the face of the former Sister of the Dark.

"I thought you could use some company," Nicci said as she glided across the stone floor to stand be the edge of the bed.

Kahlan huffed and looked away. "Let me guess, Richard's done with you and has moved on to one of his other lays of the night," she growled, then bit her lower lip, unable to believe she had just said that out loud. She looked up at Nicci with big eyes. "Nicci… I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Please… forgive me."

Nicci eased down onto the mattress and patted her hand. "There is nothing to forgive, Kahlan," the sorceress. "Because nothing has happened."

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Kahlan scooted over, having taken to sleeping in the center of the bed like she had before she had met Richard and shared the comforts and joys of the flesh with him. Nicci inclined her head, taking the cue, and brought her legs up onto the mattress to rest along side Kahlan, laying her back against the headboard and slipping her lower half under the covers. Kahlan immediately curled up close to her friend, wanting some human contact and hugged on to her.

Nicci let out a sigh and rubbed Kahlan's back as she cried. Kahlan hated crying, but it seemed to be the only thing she could do nowadays. "I… I've lost him, Nicci," she sobbed. "He… he no longer wishes to share my bed."

"Kahlan… you know that's not true," Nicci spoke softly, trying to reassure her. "He loves you… and he… he just made a mistake."

Kahlan sniffled and backed away, looking up at Nicci with a questioning look. "Are you defending him?" she asked, incredulously.

"Kahlan," Nicci objected. "It was a mistake, granted a huge one, but a mistake nonetheless." The sorceress placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back into a hug. "He feels terrible and wants to see you… to talk to you."

"What… what if I can't forgive him?" Kahlan's lips trembled as she shivered, feeling hollow and empty inside without Richard by her side. She could not handle being with child if she could not also have Richard.

Nicci took a deep breath and her hands moved down Kahlan's back soothingly as the confessor bawled into the sorceress's shoulder. "Kahlan… there is not much time left," Nicci spoke tentatively. Kahlan could hear the concern and worry in her friend's voice.

She leaned back and brushed her hair from her face, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands. "What… what do you mean?" she mumbled.

"The Imperial Order is almost upon us, Kahlan," Nicci asserted, looking at her with her perfect eyes, her beautiful features set in a grim countenance. "Soon… very soon… Aydindril shall be under siege. And then there shall be little time for personal issues. When that time comes, Richard will have to devote more of his time to supervising the men and preparing for the inevitable attack."

"And me?" Kahlan choked in a breath.

Nicci bit her lower lip and her perfect eyebrows knitted together. "And you…," she began in a trembling voice. "And you will have to be smuggled out of here and to somewhere safe, Kahlan."

Kahlan clenched her jaw tight and tried to hold back the tears. She did not like having to be sent away. Even though she was angry with Richard and felt betrayed by his so obvious womanizing, she still loved him… and she was still carrying his child, the heir to his throne. How could he even think about sending her away, unless he truly did not love her and wanted her away from him so he could indulge in more debauch fornication with his many mistresses and whores. She lowered her brow, her mind set on that false explanation, and she could not be persuaded otherwise. She would be deaf to any other explanation.

The sorceress let out a low sigh, seemingly relenting to fact that whatever plans she had had when she had come into this room where not going to work. Kahlan would not see Richard, even if the Keeper himself, were ripping apart the gates of the city. She would not invite him back to her bed until she was convince, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he was loyal and faithful. Spirits know, she had been! Kahlan had never been with anyone but Richard in her entire life.

She had come close to taking a mate after they thought he had died when he had gone to the Temple of the Winds, but the evil wizard Neville had killed the confessed man, only then to try and rape her. It had been Richard's unexpected return to the world of the living that had saved her from that fate. Then it had been her turn to save him by reciting the names of the Chimes. And it had been the Chimes that caused the destruction of magic, making it impossible for Zedd to heal Richard's mind.

Kahlan leaned back and collapsed on the bed, feeling Nicci follow her. She snuggled up next to her friend, the former Sister of the Dark, whom Kahlan knew loved Richard just as much as she did. As they laid their together, curling up beneath the blankets, two friends comforting one another over the doom on the horizon and the pain already here, Kahlan decided that Nicci was not one of Richard's whores. If she had been spreading her legs for Richard, she would never have dared to come to her now and comfort her. For some one like Nicci, who had reformed from the ways of the dark to join the light, such a betrayal would be unforgivable and she would never be able to stand the guilt.

Closing her eyes and taking a shallow breath, Kahlan asked the fates, wherever they were, to grant her a night of peace. She wanted no dreams, nothing, not even a dream about her passionate and heated evenings with Richard, which had been her only comfort in the times she had been separated from him. All she wanted was to drift in a blissful slumber with no worries about her marriage, the Chimes, or the Imperial Order threatening her beautiful city. All Kahlan wanted at the moment, was to rest.

And that is what the fates granted her.


	21. Summons

Richard slept little during the night, having spent most of the time out in the fields helping Zedd with the placement of the Dragon's Breath mines. He was worried about Kahlan, and hoped that having Nicci's presence would calm the storm that was raging inside his beautiful Confessor. It had been hard, coming out here in the dead of night, when all he had wanted was to go to Kahlan, to comfort and reassure her that she was the only woman he wanted, the only woman that he would ever want to make love to. Despite all that, she was still dead set against him coming to her bed, so he had come out here to work. However, their work had been interrupted when Verna and Warren showed up, the young wizard making a startling request of the First Wizard.

The request the young wizard made was startling, yes, but hardly a surprise. Richard called a stop to the work, after all everyone needed a break. A group of soldiers and some others, gathered in the square before the city gates and Zedd conducted the ceremony, uniting Warren and Verna in the bonds of marriage. Richard was surprised when he caught some of the Mord'Sith crying, and softly whispering amongst themselves about how beautiful the ceremony was. Richard stood in as Warren's best man, while Berdine, the buxom and always enthusiastic Mord'Sith, was Verna's maid of honor. Zedd raised his hands and recited something in the old tongue and a blue light seemed to intertwine around Warren and Verna's clasped hands. The light shot up into the sky like a beacon, declaring to all that a union between two gifted had just occurred.

When the light finally diminished, the young wizard turned to his bride and kissed her so long and deeply that the entire square burst into cheers. Verna's smile was unlike anything Richard had ever seen. He had never seen the Sister of the Light so radiant and happy. However, seeing these two lovers sadden him, reminding him of his own bride, who was up in the Confessor's Palace, thinking that he was a womanizer and philanderer, when he was not. He vowed that once they finished with the laying the mines, and he got some sleep during that day, he would do whatever it took to convince her of his love and devotion to her alone.

After a brief celebration, consisting of some light music and dancing, the happy couple retreated back to the Wizard's Keep to consummate their marriage. The dancing continued a little after they had left, and Richard obliged Berdine with a dance, needing some distraction. His Mord'Sith all seemed more willing to fraternize with the soldiers than before. Hally and Erika had grabbed two surprised looking soldiers, ones Richard recognized as being part of the wrestling tournaments. The men looked startled at first, almost as if they were afraid that more than just dancing was going to happen, you never knew with a Mord'Sith. But eventually they relaxed and enjoyed themselves, one even going as far as to tickle Erika's neck with a kiss. From the squeal that erupted from the Mord'Sith's lips, Richard guessed she enjoyed it.

"You've changed us, Lord Rahl," Berdine said softly, noticing his gaze as they moved to the music. "It's thanks to you that we can finally have somewhat normal lives."

Richard smirked. "I guess so."

"No, don't guess, it's true," Berdine replied. "See Erika there, I have never seen her smile before. Now, look at her, she's enjoying herself and dancing with a man. See the glint in her eye…" she laughed. "That soldier has no idea what she has planned for the rest of the evening. Oh there! Look! See how she's leading him away to the barracks."

Richard raised his eyebrows and could not help but laugh along with the buxom Mord'Sith. He hated to admit it, but she was right. The Mord'Sith had definitely changed. Cara had probably been the first. It had taken her longer than the others, once freed from the yoke of Darken Rahl, but she had let down her walls and had accepted Captain Benjamin Meiffert in. The young captain was more than just a tool for her to extract pleasure from. He was not just there for sex, and Richard knew it. Cara had taken a lover, not a sex slave, as Mord'Sith had been known to do. Denna had wanted to do that with him, Richard remembered, but before she had completed his training, Kahlan had saved him.

"You look troubled, Lord Rahl," Berdine said, taking note of his sorrowful expression.

"Kahlan thinks that I've lost interest in her," he said, as the music changed to a slow pace.

Berdine wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to the slow music, looking at him with her big eyes. "Have you?"

"No, of course not," he responded, tentatively placing his hands on the Mord'Sith's hips as they moved to the slow beat. He swallowed and averted his eyes, finding it amusing that he was about to confide in a Mord'Sith. "Yesterday morning… I… I accidentally mistook Cynthia for Kahlan in the kitchens."

Berdine's eyebrows rose in alarm. "That's not good."

"Tell me about it," Richard grumbled, letting out a frustrated breath. "She's locked herself back up in her chambers, and won't let me in. Spirits, even Rikka won't admit me."

"Well, Rikka and the Mother Confessor have gotten close," Berdine nodded. "It would make sense, now that you've freed us, that some of us might not always simply obey you on command." She smirked and let out a small giggle, finding what she had just said extremely amusing.

Richard could not hold back the smile that touched his lips, even if he wanted to. It was so nice to see a Mord'Sith act so normal. Berdine had been the first to really embrace the change, and it took some time to get used to her little outbursts, but he found them enjoyable. She had no trouble getting into the spirit of things and lightening the mood.

"All right, enough about my love life," Richard said, shaking his head. "How about you? How are you holding up?" He still felt sorry for the Mord'Sith, knowing how close she had been with Raina. Berdine had been a little hesitant to confide in him on that subject, not knowing how he would react to her only being attracted to women, but when he showed no signs of discrimination, she had opened up quickly.

"It has been difficult," Berdine said softly, her eyes dimming a bit. "I will always treasure my time with her, and will always love her, but I know that at some point I have to move on… she… she would want me to be happy."

Richard nodded. "I've noticed how Nyda looks at you," he said. "At some point we are going to have to fall back to the People's Palace. You… you two should have a talk when we do."

Berdine looked at him for a moment and smiled. "You always know how to brighten my day, Lord Rahl," she giggled. "It's how I know I'm your favorite!"

Chuckling, Richard shook his head. If Kahlan had been here, Richard would not have been embarrassed to be seen hugging Berdine so close during a slow dance. The Mord'Sith's attraction to women was well known amongst her friends, and she had even commented once that if Richard wasn't into Kahlan, that the confessor had better watch out because there was a certain Mord'Sith who found her ravishing.

Just as the dancing started to pick up again, Berdine stopped and gripped his arms. "In all seriousness, Lord Rahl," she said, softly. "I think you should definitely go to her. Ignore her protests and threats, and hold her in your arms and…," she blushed slightly, "… make love to her. That should remind her of how you feel."

Richard knitted his eyebrows and looked down at her. "You really think I should do that… force… force myself on her?"

"I did not say that, Lord Rahl," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "If you play it right, and do what I tell you, then she'll melt in you're arms and be unable to resist you. She'll practically be begging you to take her!"

Stopping their movements to the music, Berdine grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the revelers. Richard gulped, unsure what the Mord'Sith had in mind. But if she had an idea as to how he could get back in Kahlan's good graces, then he was determined to listen.

XXX

Cynthia woke early that morning and quickly cleaned up before going about her duties. She cleaned the pots and pans, noticing that there must have been a party last night, because there was much more cleaning that needed doing than was usual. The head cook came in about an hour before dawn and noticed her working. He said nothing, and started preparing the morning meal for the Mother Confessor. Cynthia went about her tasks quietly, saying hello to some of the other kitchen workers that came in, but was unable to ignore the looks and stares she got from them.

She had gotten stares before, when she had first arrived, but people had soon grown used to her being around. It helped that she tied her hair behind her head in a loose ponytail and was not growing with child, but Cynthia still caught the looks from strangers, who were momentarily confused to see who they presumed was the Mother Confessor chopping and dicing or rubbing a washcloth around the inside of a cauldron.

But now, after the events of the previous day, Cynthia knew why she got those stares, and it had nothing to do with how she looked. Some people actually believed the rumors and gossip that floated around the palace staff, the rumors that said that Cynthia had seduced the Lord Rahl and was trying to break up his marriage with the Mother Confessor. That had been her mission from Sister Bree, a mission she had terminated, but it had not helped when the Lord Rahl had come up behind her yesterday and started kissing her neck. For some people, that alone was enough to convict her of the crime.

The only person who seemed sympathetic was Ruthy. The Mother Confessor's personal maidservant was the only member of the palace staff whom Cynthia could count as a friend. After the incident, and once her duties were done for the evening, Ruthy had come to visit Cynthia in her quarters to comfort her.

"The Lord Rahl tried seeing the Mother Confessor, but… but she turned him away," Ruthy informed her, hugging Cynthia as she wept.

"I… I feel so terrible," Cynthia said. "I should never have come. I should have just sent the Lord Rahl here and left."

"And go where?" Ruthy asked her.

"I don't know," her voice trembled. "I'd try and runaway somewhere, maybe even try and go back home… but mostly likely than not Sister Bree will find me." She paused and lowered her voice. "She's a witch, you know. She has unnatural powers."

Ruthy knitted her eyebrows together and looked concerned. "What would happen to you if this Sister Bree found you?"

Cynthia looked at the other with big terrified eyes. "I… I would probably be punished for not following her instructions. She… she wanted me to seduce the Lord Rahl and conceive a child with him. Because then the Imperial Order would have a child with the Rahl bloodline that they could control." She paused and swallowed. "Most likely than not, I'd be given to the Emperor… to entertain him. He… he's such a brute. Spirits, I've seen what he's done to other women. But it would be worse for me."

"Why?"

"Because…," she stammered, as if that was an answer within itself. Biting her lower lip to try and cease it from trembling, she continued. "Because I look like  _her._  You have no idea the things he wants to do to her. And not just sexual. He wants to make her suffer and beg for death. If he could not have her… then… then he'd probably just take it out on me."

Ruthy was silent for sometime before she spoke again. "Then that settles it, you must stay."

"What?" Cynthia choked out.

Her friend hugged her tight and rubbed her back. "If running away will only get you captured and raped by that monster," Ruthy said softly. "Then you cannot leave. I… I cannot bear to think of those things happening to you."

"They already have," Cynthia sobbed, remembering her previous captivity. "You should thank the good spirits that you were born here and not in the Old World. If you had had the life I had, you would wish to die and go to the cold embrace of the Keeper." She sniffled and backed away, if there is a Creator, she does not care for us. She has left the people in the Old World to suffer at the hands of the Imperial Order." She paused and bit her lower lip. "Only the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor can stop them. They are the only two people that the Order fears. That… that is why the Emperor hates them so much, and why he wants to break the Mother Confessor and rape her. He wants to do it in front of the Lord Rahl, so that both will suffer."

"Does the Lord Rahl know this?" Ruthy asked, backing away slightly.

"No," Cynthia shook her head. "But I cannot tell him. If I do, he'll try and send the Mother Confessor away. And she'll find out, I know she will! She'll find out that I had told him something. Then she would think that I was seducing her husband and destroying her marriage."

It got worse after that, and Cynthia spent the better part of the evening crying into Ruthy's shoulder. Now, in the morning, Cynthia felt the stares and looks, and had started to think of running away again. It would be best, she thought. They did not need her here. Perhaps if she went to the Emperor and offered herself to him, his lust for the Mother Confessor would be sated just enough to by the Lord Rahl and his forces the time they needed to come up with a plan to triumph against the Order.

"Don't do it."

Cynthia jerked and looked up, startled to see Ruthy standing over her. Backing up out of the large cauldron, Cynthia looked into her friend's eyes and guessed that she had guessed what she had been thinking. Cynthia lowered her head and turned around, not wanting to have her friend see her cry.

"Cynthia, we've gone over this," Ruthy said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You need to stay here… it is for the best."

Nodding, Cynthia turned back around to face the other maidservant. "Have you come for the Mother Confessor's breakfast?" she asked.

"Yes… and to check on you, Cynthia," Ruthy said, giving her a small smile. She paused for a moment, then, with her hand on Cynthia's arm, guided her away from the other kitchen scullions. "Have you heard about the young wizard and the Sister of the Light?"

"Heard what?"

"That they got married last night," Ruthy gossiped. "There was an impromptu celebration, attended by the soldiers and Mord'Sith. They say that even the Lord Rahl was present as the best man."

"Oh," Cynthia had no idea why this should be of any importance to her.

She could never become excited about a wedding, having her own wedding day crashed by Imperial scouts who raped her while forcing her groom to watch before they killed him. Her wedding night had been the last time that she had willingly lain with a man. All the rest had been rape. Though she had come extremely close to openly giving herself to Richard Rahl… _no, to the Lord Rahl_. He must always be Lord Rahl to her, and never Richard Rahl. It was no right for her to think of him on familiar terms. He was a married man, with a beautiful wife, whom he loved dearly.

She listened absently as her friend gushed and gossiped about the wedding, telling her how rumors had floated around that a certain Mord'Sith named Erika and a certain wrestling champion named Rales had snuck away from the celebrations to roll in the hay. Ruthy found that incredibly funny, and had to explain to Cynthia why it was, because the Mord'Sith were not like normal women. They had been trained to lack all emotion, yet under the Lord Rahl they had been freed and were beginning to learn how to be like everyone else.

After Ruthy was done gossiping, and was picking up the meal the head cook had prepared for the Mother Confessor, she stopped and turned to Cynthia. "Oh, and one more thing," she paused for a beat. "The Lord Rahl wants to see you."

"What? Me?" Cynthia shook her head. "That is not a good idea. What if word gets back to the Mother Confessor that I had been summoned by the Lord Rahl?"

"Word will not get back to her," Ruthy assured her. "And I think we can trust the Lord Rahl to be discreet." She gave Cynthia and overly enthusiastic smile before departing, heading up the stairs to go to the Mother Confessor's chambers.

Almost as soon as Ruthy had left, two Mord'Sith appeared. Cynthia recognized one as Cara, who was the right-hand of the Lord Rahl, and the de facto leader of the Mord'Sith. The other had darker hair and was rather short for a Mord'Sith. She had an infectious smile and was very buxom. Cynthia could only guess that this was Berdine. She had heard tales about the Mord'Sith, about how she claimed to be the Lord Rahl's favorite, and about her wild nights with other women amongst the serving staff of the Confessor's Palace. Cynthia had caught the buxom Mord'Sith overtly ogling her a few times, but had thought nothing of it, thinking that the rumors and gossip about the Mord'Sith were just that, gossip. Now, seeing her more closely, and how the woman's eyes drank her in, Cynthia was beginning to take the rumors more seriously.

Cara took the lead, coming up and grabbing her arm. "Come with us, the Lord Rahl wishes to see you."

As they marched out of the kitchen, Cynthia could not help but feel the stares from everyone around them. She wished that the Mord'Sith had been less discreet in their manner, because she felt for sure that word of this summons would no doubt reach the Mother Confessor's ear, despite the reassurances from Ruthy.


	22. Schemes

They sensed mother's sadness, so they flew to her as quickly as possible. She was crying against the shoulder of a blonde female friend, and the three sisters ached to see mother so upset. They did not understand why father was not there comforting mother; they knew mother liked how father touched her in that strange way that humans touched one another. It was all very confusing to them. Humans were strange beings, and though their creators and surrogate parents were humans, they never truly understood them.

They had thought that giving father back some of his memories, namely the ones surrounding her, would have pleased mother greatly. But when they had sensed mother's sadness, they had rushed to seek out their surrogate parents, finding mother softly sobbing herself to sleep as her friend tried to comfort her. And father was barely getting any sleep. He had spent considerable time outside the confines of the silly structure they lived in. They had watched with amusement and confusion as he participated in some sort of silly human ritual that the three sisters did not understand.

The whole reason they had given father back some of his memories was to please mother, and that was what he was supposed to be doing. Instead, they found him dancing with a very enthusiastic and buxom woman in red leather. So, they decided to give him some more of his memories back, namely about these women in red leather, since, from what they had observed, those women were very protective of mother and father. They thought that giving him back some more memories might remind him of how important mother was to him and that he would then go rushing back to that funny building they lived in and please mother, as was his duty!

As they soared around the human city, watching as men in armor ran about digging holes and placing round disk-shaped objects into the ground, the three sisters felt the need to have some fun. So they bounded away from the city to explore the countryside. They found a quaint little village nestled in the woods, ripe for the plucking, near the slopes of the central mountain range. If they had had physical forms they would have salivated with the anticipation of ravaging the village and doing what they had been designed to do.

Silently, in the dead of night, unseen, a small fire began in the hearth of one of the homes. The three sisters laughed gleefully, knowing that that small fire would soon spread and raze the entire village to the ground. Giggling and squealing with enjoyment, the three sisters flew through the wind watching as the flames turned into an inferno of destruction and death. They could never have been happier.

XXX

Kahlan turned onto her side and looked out the window, seeing the sun climb higher as dawn came. Laying beside her, breathing softly in her sleep, was the former Sister of the Dark, Nicci. Her companionship during the night had been welcomed, and it appeared that her presence had also helped give Kahlan a peaceful night's rest, something she had been sorely lacking as of late. Slowly, not wanting to wake her friend, because she had put her through enough last night, Kahlan eased herself out of her big bed and reached for her robe.

Pulling the silk material around her shoulders, barely able to tie the waist ribbon around her ever-growing belly, Kahlan waddled over to the washroom, needing to make water. After relieving her bladder, Kahlan stepped over to the mirror and gazed upon her reflection. Her long dark brown hair, which always seemed to look raven black nowadays, was tousled and messy from sleep. Yet it still managed to frame her delicate features nicely. However, the red and puffy skin that rimmed her eyes, evidence of her crying, marred those features.

Heaving in a deep breath, Kahlan removed the robe from her shoulders, tossing it over to a changing rack, and took in the image of her dressed in nothing but her nightgown. Her eyebrows lowered and she frowned at her reflection, unable to think that she had looked more alluring before she had begun to show. She still possessed her curves, however she had much more than she would have liked, thanks to the weight she had begun to gain, which had been much more than she had anticipated. Biting her lower lip, Kahlan slowly reached up and undid the fastenings that held up her nightgown, allowing the silky fabric to slide off her body and fall to the stone floor at her feet.

She placed her hands in front of her, covering her femininity as she examined the image before her. Her breasts had definitely increased in size, which she had hoped would have pleased Richard, because he certainly liked touching them. Her nipples had turned darker, making them stand out against her pale skin. Her breast also felt more full and heavy, preparing for the day when they would provide nourishment to her baby. They were sensitive and tender to the touch. Yet she would give anything to have Richard touch and caress them again.

As the morning light filtered through the high window, she could just make out the stretch marks that now marred her once perfect skin. Seeing herself completely bare and exposed made Kahlan wanted to cry. Believing she no longer looked attractive or desirable, Kahlan thought she could understand why Richard was seeking his pleasure elsewhere. She could hardly disagree or be mad at him for doing so, when she thought the same thing.

Placing her hands on her swollen belly, Kahlan turned her back to the mirror and arched her neck to look over her shoulder, examining the other part of her body she knew Richard liked to touch and caress. She let out a breath of relief and smiled. At least she had one thing going for her. Her bottom still looked nice, and was still holding its shape. And she knew that Richard had liked taking her from behind. But perhaps he had started doing that because he was too repulsed by how she looked full frontal, making it impossible for him to get hard at the sight.

She had thought he had enjoyed coming to her in the middle of the day, sneaking up behind her, hiking up her skirts, mounting her from behind and taking her like a wild beast. Spirits, she had enjoyed it immensely. It was the only time that he would make love to her with the same passion and vigor as he had before her pregnancy had really begun to show. Kahlan had loved the way his hands would slide up her back and cup her breasts as he humped her senseless. But Richard had ceased coming to her, and yesterday she had seen the reason with her own eyes.

Kahlan shivered and looked away from her reflection, hugging herself against the cool breeze coming through the window. Was she really so repulsive that he had to sleep around with anything that wore a skirt? She knew he probably liked Cynthia best, since she resembled the pre-pregnancy Kahlan. That whore was probably the one who was spreading her legs the most for the Lord Rahl. Spirits, how she hated that title! Richard should never have taken it. He should have just remained the Seeker…  _her_  Seeker. Then none of this would be happening.

Shaking her head, disappointed in herself, Kahlan reminded herself that Richard had needed to take the title of Lord Rahl, that she, herself, had been the one who had convinced him of it, telling him that it was his duty, just as being the Mother Confessor was  _her_  duty. And besides, they needed D'Hara to combat the Imperial Order. The D'Harans were already battle tested and hardened, so they were the perfect candidates to lead the rest of the Midlands into the fight. And she had gotten to know some of them. They weren't all bad. General Reibisch was a good and honorable man. And Captain Benjamin Meiffert of the First File, was a kind hearted man, obviously loved Cara deeply, more so than the Mord'Sith probably realized. Kahlan had tried to tell her once, but did not think she had gotten through.

Kahlan narrowed her eyes, a plan starting to hatch in her mind. Spinning around, she looked at her bottom again, chewing on her lower lip as she thought. She could call Ruthy, and have the maidservant bring a cloak that would disguise her condition and person. And then she could sneak out of her chambers and go find Richard. She would then turn her back to him and lean against a wall, lifting up her skirts and entice him to take her from behind. She shook her head. No! It would not work. What if she walked in on him with Cynthia or one of his Mord'Sith? She could not stand the heartbreak of seeing him thrusting up into another woman.

Shaking her head more fully, she bent her legs to scoop up her nightgown, and pulled it back on. As she reached over to the changing rack, slipping back on the silk robe, Kahlan decided that she would stay in her chambers. If Richard wanted her, he would come to her. He had come last night, but she had turned him away. Lowering her eyes, focusing on tying the waist ribbon to close the robe, Kahlan silently chided herself for doing so. If she had not turned him away, she might have had his company last night, even if he was only making love to her out of duty.

Turning around, Kahlan waddled back out of the washroom and climbed back into bed. Nicci stirred but remained asleep. Curling up next to her friend, needing the warmth of another human being, Kahlan rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, just wanting to lie there until her champion came to her.

XXX

Cynthia was nervous. Her heart was beating so profoundly under her breast that she felt for sure that the two Mord'Sith could hear it. Cara and Berdine said nothing on their march up through the Confessor's Palace, heading in the direction of the Lord Rahl's office. Cynthia hoped that no news of this summons would reach the Mother Confessor, because if it did, spirits, Cynthia did not even want to think about what sort of wrath would be unleashed if it did.

With everything that had happened, and with the Mother Confessor seeing the Lord Rahl kissing her neck, Cynthia was beginning to grow worried that the Lord Rahl might just take her as a mistress now, since the Mother Confessor already believed him to be doing so. Cynthia tried to think of what she would do if that were the case. Yes, she found him handsome. The Lord Rahl was perhaps one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, but she did not know if she could sleep with him, especially with how she had wanted to make amends to the Mother Confessor for doing what she had already done.

Her entire reason for wanting to serve the Mother Confessor was to make penance for playing a part in Sister Bree's insidious plot. Sure, it had not worked, like the Sister of the Dark had hoped, but in a way, to some extent, Cynthia felt it had. Having her around seemed to make the Mother Confessor doubt the Lord Rahl's fidelity. And if the Lord Rahl did, indeed, plan on making Cynthia his mistress, then the Mother Confessor would never forgive her.

A leather-clad arm swung out in front of her, bringing her to an abrupt stop and pulling her from her thoughts. Cynthia blinked and looked up from the floor, seeing a large oak door with iron hinges. Two Mord'Sith, dressed in their standard crimson leather, stood on either side, standing guard. Cara stepped forward slightly, then stopped and looked over at her.

"Stay here," she commanded.

Cynthia nodded, and stood beside Berdine as the senior Mord'Sith stepped up to the door, nodding to her subordinates. Cara reached for the latch, but before she could grab a hold of it, the door opened and the Lord Rahl was standing there.

"Ah, good," he said, nodding, his eyes glancing over to Cynthia. "Bring her." He raised his hand and gestured for them to follow, before disappearing back into his office.

Berdine gently grabbed her arm and instructed her to move. Cynthia's feet felt heavy, but she managed to walk through the door without any problems. The door was closed behind them as soon as they passed the threshold. Cynthia sucked in a quick breath and looked around the room, sighing with relief when she saw no bed. But then her eyes spotted a large couch that had throw pillows and a blanket on it. At first she was afraid that the Mord'Sith were going to poke her with their agiels, and instruct her to remove her clothes, but then she remembered that the rods had no magic in them anymore.

The Lord Rahl's office was spacious, but was relatively spartan. Except for the large couch, a scattering of chairs, the desk and the bookshelves, there was hardly anything of any real substance or worth. The Lord Rahl was dressed in a black tunic with gold fringe, and matching black trousers. His sword was attached to the belt around his waist, and he had one hand resting on its hilt. The sight of him standing there made Cynthia catch her breath. She could see why the Mother Confessor would be jealous of any other woman who might claim his attentions. The Lord Rahl was definitely a god amongst men.

His warm brown eyes gazed at her for a moment, before he cocked his head over to the Mord'Sith. "Leave us."

Berdine obeyed without hesitation. However, the senior of the two Mord'Sith paused, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Richard?" questioned Cara.

The Lord Rahl closed his eyes for a brief moment and turned to look on her more fully. "You heard me, Cara… leave us."

The Mord'Sith stood her ground for a moment, glaring hard at the Lord Rahl, before clenching her jaw and giving a brief nod. Turning on the spot, Cara stopped next to Cynthia and leaned across to her. "I have my eye on you," the Mord'Sith hissed in threat, before leaning back and exiting the room.

Cynthia shivered and jumped when the door closed with a loud thud. She lowered her eyes and rung her hands together, feeling unsure of herself. It felt unnerving being alone with the Lord Rahl after all this time. The last time she had been this alone with him was when she had been pretending to be his wife. She let out a yelp when she felt his hand on her cheek. His hold tightened and he raised her head, forcing her to look at him. She trembled under his powerful gaze, afraid to do or say anything.

His brown eyes scanned her face, scrutinizing and examining her features. Despite the fact that she was fully clothed, she felt exposed and naked before him. She blushed slightly, remembering that he had seen her bare breasts before, and that she had taken him into her before he had pushed her away. Even though he had never reached climax, and that it had been for such a brief time, Cynthia still felt terrible about the entire episode.

"Look up at me," he commanded in a calm and soothing voice with no trace of malice or anger. His voice was so unlike any other man she had ever met.

Trembling, Cynthia bit her lower lip and steeled herself. She could not disobey him... he was the Lord Rahl! If he commanded her to spread her legs… she would, because if she disobeyed the Lord Rahl, the Mord'Sith would then surely punish her. Tentatively, she raised her eyes and looked up at him. Their eyes locked and she felt like she was going to melt under his gaze. His thumb tenderly stroked her cheek, and she shuddered, wanting to pull back and look away. But before she could make any move, his hold on her face grew firmer and he pulled her towards him.

Cynthia trembled, thinking that he was going to kiss her. But his movements did not take him to her lips. Instead, she felt him plant a soft kiss on her forehead. He lingered for a moment, his fingers feeling her hair as she heard him inhale deeply. She had been with enough men to know when they inhaled like that, they were taking in her scent. His other hand was resting on her lower back, holding her to him. As he exhaled, she felt him relax.

Using the element of surprise, thinking that he was just getting in the mood for something more, Cynthia placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away. It hurt doing so, because it felt so good being in his arms, but her heart and conscience would not allow her to enjoy it.

"NO!" she cried, backing away, covering her mouth as tears started to stream down her flushed cheeks. "Don't… please? I'm not her! I'm not your wife."

The Lord Rahl stood there for a moment, looking baffled and confused. Then he took a step forward, stopping when she jumped back. He raised an empty hand, as if trying to calm a spooked animal. "It's alright," he murmured softly. "I'm not going to do anything. I just wanted to smell your scent, is all."

She looked at him for a long moment, utterly bewildered, and unsure what to say. Why would he wish to smell her? If he really wanted to smell a woman's scent, then all he had to do was go to his wife. But maybe, because of yesterday, the Mother Confessor wasn't seeing him. Cynthia felt her chest constrict with worry and confusion. She felt a desperate need to flee, but there was only one door and on the other side were four Mord'Sith.

When he noticed that she was too frightened and perplexed to respond, the Lord Rahl raised both his hands, trying to show her that he was not a threat, and slowly took a few steps back, away from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just had to make sure that there was a solid difference between the two of you, besides the fact that Kahlan is with child."

"And?" she choked out, amazed she had managed to say anything, let alone think.

"Well, you may look the same," he said, his eyes narrowing a bit. "But you don't smell the same. I'd recognize Kahlan's scent anywhere."

"Then… Lord Rahl? Why… then why… why am I here?" she stammered.

"Please, call me Richard," he said, gesturing for her to follow him.

Cynthia hugged herself, and bit her quivering lower lip, but inclined her head and tiptoed after him as he led her to the couch. She hesitated for a second when he sat down, but when he looked at her for the longest moment, she swallowed hard and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Richard leaned back and rested his shoulder along the soft cushions.

"Cynthia," he spoke up, using her name. "Remember when we first met… that I had no memories?"

She nodded, unsure where he was going, hoping he wasn't going to bring up the fact that she had tried to seduce him and had taken him into her mouth, arousing him to the point where they had almost had sex. Cynthia closed her eyes briefly, praying to the good spirits that he was not going to ask her to finish what she had started.

"Well," Richard said, looking at her with a funny expression. "It appears that some of my memories have come back. I remember Kahlan… everything about her, from the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, to the scent in the air when she is around. And, no offense, but even back then, now that I can remember those things, you were nothing like her. Sure, you look like her, but everything else is different."

He leaned forward and looked at her hard. Cynthia felt the urge to slink away, but resisted. He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing is slightly.

"You don't taste or feel like her," he said, looking away, letting her hand drop. "Even if I wanted to sleep with you, I couldn't. I love her, Cynthia. I love her more than life itself. She is the only woman I want to be with. And I would never do anything to hurt her."

Cynthia brought her hand back and hugged herself, shivering despite the fact that there was a large fire in the hearth. "Again… I ask you, why am I here?"

The Lord Rahl stood and crossed his arms over his chest, staring contemplatively into the flames of the fire. "Last night, while I was attending Verna and Warren's wedding, some more of my memories came back. I remember all the Mord'Sith now, including Cara, and what they've been through… what I've helped them become," he turned to her. "You were with this Sister Bree, you were her accomplice… what is happening to me? Why did I lose my memories, and why are some of them partially coming back now?"

"I… I don't know," Cynthia shuddered. "Truly, I don't. It… it wasn't part of Sister Bree's plan. I know that. She thought that just my looking and sounding like the Mother Confessor would be enough. Believe me, I look exactly like  _her_  in everyway, even the Mother Confessor could attest to that…" she paused and bit her tongue, worried that she should not have mentioned the fact that the Mother Confessor knew the extent of how similar they were.

"So you're penance is genuine? You're not feigning this to gain sympathy and spy on us while we're trying to defend the free peoples of the Midlands from the horrors of the Order?"

Cynthia nodded, starting to feel more confident. "I would never freely serve those monsters, Lord Ra—Richard," she quickly corrected, noticing how he looked at her when she was about to address him by his title.

Richard took a deep breath and turned back to the flames. "What happened to you?" he asked. "How did you come to be in Sister Bree's service?"

She shivered. Out of all the questions he had to ask, why this one? If there was anything Cynthia hated, it was recounting her brutal rape and capture by the Order and the subsequent horror of being made to service the men of the Order in the tents, followed by becoming the Wizard Neville's personal plaything before Sister Bree found her and noticed her resemblance to the Mother Confessor. For then on, she had be under the constant fear that the Emperor might lose control and forget his plan, and simply take her so violently that she would die and fall into darkness.

Suddenly she felt arms around her. Cynthia blinked, realizing that she had been quiet for far too long and had worried the Lord Rahl. He was hugging her, but there was nothing suggestive or sexual about the way he touched her. It was simply the hug of another human being giving another comfort and compassion. "I'm sorry, it must have been terrible," he murmured into her ear. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No… it's all right," she forced out, backing out of his hold. Cynthia held her hands in her lap and stared down at the floor and recounted to him all the atrocities that had been done to her and which she had witnessed. She surprised herself with her own strength, when she managed not to cry. It almost felt good to get it off her chest, to let go of the burden of carrying it inside for so long. After she was finished, she let out a long breath and closed her eyes, feeling at peace for the first time that she could remember.

Richard leaned back. "I'm so sorry for what has happened to you," he said. "I don't know how I would have reacted if what happened to you happened to Kahlan. Your husband, Jared, must have been a brave man."

"He fought them until the end," Cynthia smiled for the first time at the memory of her deceased husband. For the first time since his death, recalling his face did not bring sadness to her. She remembered his love and his touch… and she felt joy at having been lucky enough to experience it for however brief a time as she had. "We… we will be reunited in the Underworld."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Richard placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Lord—I mean, Richard," she smiled slightly when he nodded. "Can… can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Is… is it my fault that the Mother Confessor is not seeing you?" she asked.

"No, don't blame yourself," Richard said, standing and stepping away, heaving in a deep breath as he gazed back down at the flames in the hearth. "I should have been more observant. I mean, really? How could I assume that Kahlan would be working in the kitchen? She's the Mother Confessor! Sure, when we were questing for the Stone of Tears she helped with cooking and menial chores, but now that we're here, in Aydindril, there are people to do that for us."

He was rambling now, talking mainly to himself. Cynthia felt embarrassed to be witnessed to his private thoughts. She watched as he racked his fingers through his hair. He turned around to face her.

"Cynthia, you were serving her as a maidservant, right?" he asked.

She nodded in the affirmative.

"Then what happened? Why are you now working amongst the cooking staff?"

"It's not my place to say," Cynthia said, hugging her arms and looking away.

"No, please, I want you to speak openly with me," Richard asserted. "I need to get Kahlan back, and I need all the help I can get. It was Berdine's idea that I speak with you."

"Ruthy would be a wiser choice," Cynthia spoke up. "The Mother Confessor trusts her more."

"That's why I have to talk to you," Richard explained. "In a silly way, the fact that Kahlan has assumed that I've taken you as a mistress, makes it easier for me to speak privately with you. If Kahlan found out about this meeting, she would never come and interrupt it, because she would assume that I was bedding you right now, and that is something she never wants to see. So, in a weird way, her false assumptions provide us with a means to speak privately."

Cynthia flushed. "But why make her think that when it's not true?"

Richard let out a frustrated breath. "I don't know, but it was the only thing I could think of," he admitted. "Look, Cynthia… before this all happened, Kahlan appeared to like you. She even put you under her protection. The only reason you haven't been thrown into the dungeons is because, even though she believes you to be a rival for my affections, she will never take back a promise she made. And she had promised her protection." He laughed half-heartedly. "It's one of the reasons why I love her so much."

He paused and looked off for a moment. "Cynthia, I know this is all difficult for you, but I'd like your help. And right now, you seem to be the only one that can help me. Ruthy wants to, but she's loyal to Kahlan and will never go against her orders, even if they make no sense and go against what is best for her." He turned and knelt before her, reaching out to take her hands in his. He looked up at her with big brown eyes. "Cynthia… will you help me."

She had to remind herself to breathe. Seeing him kneeling before her, with her hands in his, felt oddly like a marriage proposal. Cynthia sucked in a quick breath and gave a nod. He smiled in gratitude and stood. She watched as he placed his hands behind his back and began pacing the room.

"This all seems to have started two or three days ago," he went on. "Do you remember what happened around that time that could explain this?"

Cynthia knitted her eyebrows together and averted her eyes. Yes, she did know. Ruthy had told her when she had come to inform her that she was to work in the kitchens. However, Ruthy had told her than information in confidence, and Cynthia was unsure whether or not it was wise to divulge this privilege information to the Lord Rahl, even if he was the Mother Confessor's husband and that it would help him understand why his wife was acting the way she was.

But this misunderstanding was breaking up the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor, and that had been what Sister Bree wanted. It had been her plan to distract the couple from the war by turning their focus to personal issues instead of preparing to fight. The potential of controlling the conception of a child with war wizard's blood had just been an added benefit of the plan. And since the distraction was still occurring, just not in the method the Sister of the Dark had planned, Cynthia decided that she was going to put a halt to it and do whatever she could to repair the damage before it got out of control.

Letting out a long breath of air, Cynthia opened her eyes and stood up to face the Lord Rahl. "It was after the meeting with the generals, the one where you planned the defense of Aydindril. When you did not come to her bed that night, for some reason, the Mother Confessor immediately assumed that you must have come to mine."

Richard furrowed his eyebrows and jerked with a quick laugh. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It's just amusing. I mean, you look like her, but you're not her. No offense, I think you're a nice person and all, but you are two entirely different people."

Cynthia nodded, feeling more bolder and much more confident in his presence than she had when she had entered his office. "No offense taken, Lord Ra—Richard," she smiled slightly, finding that she was beginning to enjoy his company. "We have both led different lives. The only thing that seems to connect us is that we look the same."

"That's something that has puzzled me for some time," he said, looking at her more closely, as if he was examining her. "You say that even Kahlan believes that you look identical?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Except for the lip scar."

" _The lip scar_?" he echoed, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, yes…," he smiled lazily. "I know she's self-conscious about it, but I find it adorable."

"Well, everything else is the same," Cynthia finished.

"I know," Richard said with a pointed look. "The physical feel might be the same, but the emotional connection and personality invested in the body is not."

Cynthia averted her gaze, knitting her eyebrows together. "I'm sorry about that," she said, and then blushed, immediately surprised that she had apologized for trying to sleep with him back in the forest.

"It's in the past, let us try and forget it," Richard said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the issue. He paused and racked in a deep breath. She watched as he ran his hand through his hair, turning melancholy. He turned his back to her and his shoulders slumped in misery. "I have to see her, Cynthia," he spoke softly at first. "The Order is not far away. They might even be here tomorrow. I… I have to see her before then. I have to remind her of how much I love her."

Cynthia's heart ached for this man, seeing how much he loved his wife. She lowered her brow, trying to think of a way to help him. He was such a kind and gentle man, that she could not stand to see him suffer like this. Then it came to her.

"You need to get into her bedchambers, right?"

The Lord Rahl nodded. "Even Rikka, one of my Mord'Sith, will not let me pass."

"Then… then, I might know of a way to do so without you being found out by the Mother Confessor's guards," Cynthia informed him.

Richard looked up and stared at her, his eyes wide with hope. He moved towards her and wrapped her up in his arms, giving her a big hug. "Thank you, Cynthia."

She closed her eyes and basked in the feel of his arms around her. Spirits, there was something about this man that made her want to do anything to help him. She knew it wasn't love, because it felt different than how she had felt about Jared, but it was still strong, exerting a powerful influence over her. Suddenly she was being lifted off the ground and she was swirling around with him as she hugged her. Cynthia could not help but giggle as he did so. She squealed softly and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of it.

It was at that point that Cynthia realized what it was she was feeling. It was something she had not felt in a long time, ever since her parents had died. Being an only child, she had never had siblings, but at this moment, with the way he swirled them around the room, Cynthia felt the warmth and security of having someone who would love her unconditionally without any rules or boundaries. Someone like a brother.

"I… I… I'm getting dizzy?" she laughed.

"Oh! Sorry," he grinned and placed her down, his hands resting on her hips.

His warm brown eyes looked down at her and for a moment she was worried that he was going to kiss her, that he was mistaking her for his love. But then he closed his eyes and when they opened, a different kind of love was reflecting back at her. She could not quite place it, but it did not feel romantic.

"So… how do I get into her bedchambers without being seen?" he asked huskily, the look in his eyes telling her exactly what he had planned for the Mother Confessor.

Cynthia blushed at being party to his inner thoughts. "The servant's entrance! I'll have to see Ruthy, she's the only one that has a key now," she said. She closed her eyes, remembering the first time she had entered through the servant's entrance and had glimpsed the Lord Rahl making love to the Mother Confessor on the floor of their bedchambers.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, bring her back to the present. "I will never forget this."

Cynthia could not help by smile; his happiness and hope were infectious. She leaned back, blushing slightly at the feel of his hands around her waist. "Don't thank me yet," she said, feeling lightheaded. She had never once had this feeling of familial love. "When it works… then you can thank me."

Richard gave a boyish grin and nodded. "Then let's not waste a second," he let go of her and rushed for the door, calling for the Mord'Sith. He turned back at her and smiled, his eyes sparkling like a man with the knowledge that he was going to get back the woman he loved. Cynthia beamed at him, feeling genuinely pleased that she could be of help.


	23. The Plan

Something was not right out here, and Cara could feel it. It was midday, the sun shining directly above them, and everything was quiet. Just too quiet, for Cara's liking. And it was because of that quiet that the Mord'Sith knew something was out of place.

Captain Benjamin Meiffert was overseeing the final placement of the defenses, as Cara strolled up and down the frontline, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to watch as the sunlight danced off his handsome features and the sweat that was trickling down his hard body, as he toiled with his men under the hot sun. She had to stifle the desire to simply jump him there, especially knowing how her Benjamin wanted preferred taking her in privacy. Though, Cara mused, she did not know how private their couplings really were, when half the Confessor's Palace could probably hear her screams of ecstasy when he took her over the edge.

Her relationship with him had not been something she had expected to blossom as it had. At first, when she had started sleeping with him in the People's Palace, when Richard had gone there to fully assume the role of Lord Rahl, it had just been for sex, for pleasure. But over time, that had changed and real feelings had developed between the two of them. And after witnessing Verna and Warren's wedding, and experiencing the fervor it had put Benjamin in when they went back to her quarters, Cara was starting to contemplate telling him her realization that she was in love with him, and that she secretly wanted their relationship to go to the next level.

But circumstances made that difficult. According to their scouts, the Imperial Order had finished with the town of Hallas and were on their way here. So, personal issues had to be put aside as they focused on the defense of the city. All the civilians, except those who served as staff in the Confessor's Palace, had been evacuated across the mountains into D'Hara, where Cara feared they would all eventually have to make their last stand.

Meiffert had stood back and was issuing out orders. As she stood their watching him, Cara's thoughts drifted back to earlier that morning. She was still puzzled over why Richard had wanted to see Cynthia. She had definitely not liked it when he ordered her and Berdine out of his office, leaving him alone with the duplicate of the Mother Confessor. And she was especially distressed when she heard Cynthia giggle and laugh, a sound that was too eerily similar to Kahlan's for Cara's liking. For a brief moment she had been worried that Richard was indeed sleeping with the woman. But then, in the very next moment, the door opened and Richard was standing before her, asking for her to find Ruthy, the Mother Confessor's personal maidservant.

After delivering the maidservant to the Lord Rahl's office, Richard dismissed her and Berdine, telling them to get some rest. But Cara couldn't rest, not when she could not have her Benjamin by her side. So, she went out to the fields, stood close by and watched him, silently pretending that she was on patrol. That was when she got the feeling that something was not right.

Turning away from the city walls, Cara looked out at the opened fields around them. That's when she saw him, a lone traveler in a dusty green cloak walking along the road, heading straight for them. Cara snapped her head back and called for Meiffert. The captain came jogging over and when she pointed out the lone traveler, Benjamin gave a nod and shouted back to his men. The soldiers quickly dropped their spades in favor of swords and spears. They ran up to them, and Meiffert pulled his sword from its scabbard. And since her agiels did not work because of the Chimes sapping of magic, Cara pulled a short sword from her hip. She might have been trained with using agiels to torture and make men cower before her, but she was just as deadly or effective with any weapon.

Walking with steady assurance the traveler gave no indication that he noticed the soldiers fanning out on the road and the fact that standing amongst them, clad in her red leather, was a Mord'Sith. As he approached them, Meiffert raised a hand.

"Halt!" he ordered, his sword arm tensing, just in case. "Who are you?"

"I am a citizen of Galea, come to see the Mother Confessor," the traveler spoke in a deep and gravelly voice.

"Galea as fallen to the Imperial Order," Meiffert harrumphed. "You are a spy."

The traveler paused for a moment, and his hooded head turned, as if he was looking directly at Cara. "She can vouch for me," he said, pointing at her.

"Me?" Cara scoffed, stepping forward. "I do not know you!"

"Oh, but you do," the traveler replied, reaching up to pull down his hood.

When his face was revealed, Cara almost gasped in surprise, but she managed to stifle it before it escaped her lips. Meiffert looked over at her with a furrowed brow.

"Do you know him?" he asked.

Cara gave a slight nod of her head. Yes, she did know this man. However, she had never thought to see him again.

XXX

Richard looked at the young woman, watching as she shifted nervously in front of him, twirling her fingers through her long black curly hair. Her brown eyes were big and worried, but she managed to not look away from his gaze. Cynthia stood beside her, a hand resting on her shoulder. Ruthy was not as tall as Cynthia, and she was no Kahlan—then again no woman could match Kahlan's beauty in his eyes, so he had to admit that he was bias on that regard. However, she was still very pleasing to the eyes and would, no doubt, make some man very lucky in the future. A future that Richard hoped he could save. But before he turned his focus towards the defense of the Midlands, he needed to save his marriage and his own future with the woman he loved.

"I'm not sure, Lord Rahl," Ruthy spoke up in a timid voice. "The Mother Confessor has made her wishes very clear. She will not see you."

He sucked in a deep breath. "I'm not asking you to do anything against your will, Ruthy," Richard said. "You don't even have to do it, all I'm asking is that while you and Cynthia go back to your quarters, you just turn your back for a second."

Cynthia nodded. "That will be all I'll need," she assured her friend, rubbing her arm. "It is the only way, Ruthy. We all know that the Mother Confessor is hurting right now, and her orders go against what we know is best for her. She needs the Lord Rahl… she needs her husband, even if she won't admit it."

Ruthy gave a slight nod in understanding. "Yes… I know, but… I cannot disobey her," she looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, I want to help. I really do. But the Mother Confessor has been so good to me. I was hand picked to be her maidservant. I cannot do as you ask… I'm sorry."

Richard sighed and ran his hand through his hair, but nodded. "I understand," he said, unable to hide the fact the he was a little annoyed. Cynthia's plan had been a good one, and all they needed was the key to the servant's entrance. Richard was not about to go busting down doors; that was not the way to get Kahlan back. If she was being held against her will, yes, but not with how she had been locking herself away.

A knock at the door startled him and he turned to Ruthy, giving her a questioning look.

"I assure you, Lord Rahl, I was not followed once you summoned me," the maidservant asserted.

He nodded to Cynthia, who stepped over and opened the door. Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise at who was on the other side, but he supposed he should not have been. "Come in, Nicci," he gestured with an open hand.

The sorceress bowed her head and stepped across the threshold, looking back at Cynthia as she closed the door and bolted it shut. "I'm sorry for intruding," she said in a calm voice. "But I sensed that some schemes were afoot… and I wanted in."

"Cara told you, didn't she?" Richard asked.

Nicci smiled and inclined her head. "Yes, she was worried about you, Richard."

"Let me guess?" Richard said, tilting his head. "She doesn't think the plan will work."

"She has her doubts, yes," Nicci nodded, looking back at Cynthia. "What is  _she_  doing here?"

Richard crossed his arms and stared hard at the former Sister of the Dark for a moment. "It was her plan."

"Really?" Nicci arched a perfect eyebrow and looked back at the duplicate of Kahlan as if seeing her in a new light. "Then she and Kahlan are much more alike than I originally thought."

Cynthia blushed slightly and averted her eyes, shifting awkwardly before stepping back to stand by Ruthy. The maidservant was listening to everything with big eyes, and Richard had the feeling that she might be a gossiper. She just seemed really good at listening. Though, he felt he could trust her to keep these conversations confidential. Her loyalty to Kahlan was all the proof he needed to her character.

"So, have you come here to help, or belittle the plan?" Richard inquired, narrowing his eyes at the sorceress.

Nicci smiled. "I've spent the night and most of the morning with Kahlan," she said, lowering her perfect eyebrows. "Believe me when I say this, even if she will not admit it, she needs you. And I'm going to do whatever is in my power to ensure that you see her before everything crumbles."

Richard gave a slow nod. "All right," he said softly. "Then do you have any suggestions, since it seems you disagree with the effectiveness of my plan."

"Oh, I said nothing disparaging against your plan, Richard," Nicci gave a tight smile. "I just confirmed what you already knew about how Cara thought about it. I for one, fully endorse this plan." The sorceress turned to Ruthy. "Look, I understand you need to follow the Mother Confessor's orders to the letter, but she is not of sound mind right now. Her words cannot be taken seriously. Deep down, you know this is true, and that she needs the Lord Rahl… and needs him now, before it is too late."

Ruthy sniffled and looked up at Nicci. The two stared at one another for a long moment, before the maidservant gave a hesitant nod. Her lips quivered for a second, until she steadied herself and took a deep breath. "I will take Cynthia to my quarter and then I shall," she looked at Richard and a small smile worked its way onto her lips, " _turn my back for a second_ , as you said, Lord Rahl."

Richard sighed with relief. "Thank you, Ruthy. I shall not forget this."

"Just… just don't tell the Mother Confessor that I was invovled," Ruthy asked in a pleading voice.

"Don't worry, you're involvement will not be spoken off," Richard assured her. "Now go, the two of you. It is already the mid-afternoon and we are losing valuable time."

Cynthia nodded and grabbed her friend's hand, giving it a squeeze to comfort her. Ruthy took another deep breath, and then the two women left Richard's office, leaving him alone with Nicci. They stared at each other for the longest time, before Richard offered her something to drink.

"Water would be fine," Nicci said, stepping over to one of the chairs sitting beside the hearth and sat down.

Richard went over to the stand by the wall that had a pitcher of water and some wine bottles. He picked up a goblet and filled it with some water. Returning to the hearth, he handed it to Nicci. The sorceress accepted the goblet with a nod and took a delicate sip.

"It was risky, you know," she said, as he took a seat in the opposite chair. "Bringing that _woman_  to your office. If Kahlan hears of it before you make your move, I don't think you'll get to do what I know you want to do tonight."

Richard stretched his neck and gave an absent nod, staring off into the flames in the hearth. "She'll come around," was all he said.

Nicci inclined her head and took another sip of her water. "Last I saw her, she was still asserting that you and that  _woman_  were messing around," the sorceress shook her head. "I hope you know what you're doing, Richard. Do you really think you can trust  _her_?"

"Yes," Richard spoke confidently, believing what he was saying. Not all of his memories were back, he had gotten more during recent days, involving the Mord'Sith and helping them become who they were, but he still did not really remember Nicci. Though he understood that she was a friend and ally, and that she loved him. He could tell by the way she looked at him. And she was concerned for him. "It's all right, Nicci. I know what I'm doing. And  _her_  name is Cynthia."

"So what exactly is it that you to make her giggle like a little girl?" Nicci asked. When Richard looked at her, she gave a soft smile and tilted her head. "Cara told me."

"I picked her up and swirled her around while I hugged her," Richard answered flatly, though his cheeks flushed.

Her perfect eyebrow rose. "Are you sure you're thinking clearly?"

"Yes," he replied quickly. "They may look the same, but they are not the same woman. I…," he narrowed his eyes, staring at the flames in the hearth, thinking about the fire he intended to start this evening. "I can tell the difference," he finished.

"If you say so," Nicci said with a nod.

"I do."

They sat there is some silence while they waited for Cynthia to return. When a soft knock came from the door about fifteen minutes later, Richard nearly jumped with excitement. Soon he would be with his Kahlan! Bolting out of the chair, he strode towards the door, Nicci following behind in his footsteps. He pulled the latch and opened the door, seeing Cynthia waiting there, a small smile on her lips. Her blue eyes sparkled and he caught his breath, reminding himself that she was not Kahlan. All he had to do was close his eyes and smell the air and he could tell the difference.

"I have the key," Cynthia said, beaming. She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Come, we must go quickly. I talked Ruthy into distracting Rikka."

Richard looked over his shoulder at Nicci. She gave an encouraging smile, but he thought her eyes looked sad. He understood where that sadness came from, because he had had it while he had been separated from his beloved. He felt sorry for Nicci that she did not have someone to share her life with.

"Good luck, Richard," she spoke softly.

Before he could give a respond, Cynthia pulled his arm and he went stumbling out of his office. The two Mord'Sith gave him and Cynthia a quizzical look, but said nothing, watching with what appeared to be amusement as Richard was yanked down the hall by the dark haired beauty that resembled his love. She held his hand tightly, and he could feel her warmth, the flush of excitement and glee. She even seemed to be giggling softly. When she looked over her shoulder and saw his expression, she raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"I've almost forgot what it felt like," Cynthia spoke up in explanation.

"Huh?" furrowing his brow.

"Sneaking around," she said, lowering her voice. "Making rendezvous." She paused and bit her lower lip, her brow lowering as she remembered something. "Jared and I used to sneak away to have secret rendezvous… we didn't do anything except some heavy petting and kissing, but it was thrilling knowing that we could get caught by our parents."

Richard nodded absently, suddenly having trouble imagining Cynthia kissing another man. He knew she was not Kahlan, but the image alone caused him to shiver, because it was almost like imagining Kahlan kissing another man. He shook his head and told himself that he was going to have to get used to the idea, because he was not going to prevent Cynthia from having the opportunity to find happiness again. Richard just knew that he might be protective, like an older brother, if she ever started seeing someone.

"All right, we're here," Cynthia said in a soft voice. She peered around the corner. "Yes! Ruthy is gossiping with the Mord'Sith." Cynthia turned back to Richard and grabbed his arm. "Come."

He followed behind her on his tiptoes, like he was trying to sneak through a field of broken eggshells. He looked down the hall and saw Rikka about to turn her head towards them. Just then, Ruthy said something and the Mord'Sith turned back to the maidservant. He let out the breath he did not know he had been holding in. Richard turned his attention back to Cynthia and watched as she pulled out the key and slipped it into the lock of the servant's entrance to the Mother Confessor's washroom. It unnerved him slightly that it was so easy, and that there was a door that led into her washroom.

Cynthia turned the latch and pushed the door open. She stepped back and gestured to him to go inside. He moved to the threshold and then stopped. He turned to the duplicate Kahlan and gave her a hug, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Cynthia… I will not forget this."

"Just promise me one thing, Richard," Cynthia said. "Never let her doubt your love again."

Richard gave a cocky grin. "I don't intend to." He gave her a wink and she stifled a giggle as he rushed through the door and into the Mother Confessor's washroom, Cynthia closing the door behind him. His smile grew knowing he was now just that much more closer to his beloved.


	24. Rapture

Nicci had left over an hour ago, she had been gracious enough to help Kahlan get cleaned up. Even though she had no intention of going outside today, Kahlan still felt the need to wash her hair and body. Inwardly she did so because she secretly wished that Richard might come to her, but she highly doubted that possibility. He was probably off with Cynthia right now, doing spirits knows what. She didn't even want to think about it.

But, just in case Richard decided to pay her a visit, she wanted to be as pleasing as she could, despite how terrible she felt about her appearance. She had also picked out one of her nightgown's that unbuttoned from the back, so it would be easier for him to take her the only way she knew he would, that is, if he came to her at all, which she highly doubted.

Since the sun was still out, Kahlan decided to rest on top of the covers. She was not necessarily sleepy, but her weeping and morose mood hardly made her energetic. Ruthy had left some food for her around midday, and Kahlan had yet to even nibble at it. She just laid there on her big bed, feeling lethargic and gross. Her mind ran back to the other night, just hours after the incident in the kitchen, when she had turned Richard away when he had come to her.

Afterwards, Kahlan had sworn that she had heard Richard heatedly yelling at someone and felt guilty that she had put Ruthy in the position of telling the Lord Rahl that he could not visit the Mother Confessor's bedchambers. The poor girl was just doing her duty... did he have to be so mean to her? She softly began sobbing for the pressure and anxiety that she had placed on her faithful maidservant. It must have been difficult for the girl, caught between a married couple like this. She hoped that Richard didn't plan on punishing her.

No, Kahlan shook her head and sniffled softly, wiping away the remaining tears from her eyes. Richard may be capable of many things, but he would not punish Ruthy for doing her duty and being loyal to the Mother Confessor. Sitting up, Kahlan swung her legs over the edge of the bed and heaved herself up. She clutched at her enlarged belly and waddled over to the washroom. When she pushed the door open, she thought she heard a noise. She looked around, and saw the long curtains flutter. But then she noticed that the high window had been left open and that it was only a slight breeze that was making the curtains move.

Kahlan found a washcloth and dipped it into a bowl with cool water and rinsed her face, cleaning off the residue of her hot tears. If there was one thing she hated, it was how she always seemed to cry nowadays. Once finished, she placed the washcloth down on the counter, confident that an attendant would deal with clearing it away. As she waddled back out and towards her big bed, Kahlan bit her lower lip and ran her hands down her large swollen belly.

Why had he come last night? Surely he did not find her attractive anymore, since he had been kissing Cynthia in the kitchens. She frowned and huffed as she plopped herself down on the mattress. She knew he had left after a while, when it had become clear she would not see him. Crossing her arms over her breasts, Kahlan stretched out on her side, putting her back to the door, and scowled into the pillow. The bastard! He probably had gone straight to his whore afterwards and sought relief between her legs!

While she simmered in her delusions, Kahlan suddenly heard the creak of the washroom door as it opened. She froze, listening as it closed, the wood of the door groaning. Someone took a quick worried breath. Not wanting the intruder to be informed that she was aware of them, Kahlan remained silent and still, pretending that she had fallen asleep. Using her hearing, she paid attention to the intruder's movements, hearing footfalls as they crossed the stone floor to check on the bolted latch on the big heavy oak door that led to the hall where Rikka was standing guard.

When the room fell silent and she felt the mattress sag as someone climbed up into the bed with her, Kahlan gritted her teeth, knowing that only one person could have been capable of getting into her bedchambers undetected by the Mord'Sith. The mattress shifted and she could feel the warmth of his body as he scooted closer to her. Grounding her teeth in anger, Kahlan was determined to chew him out for his presumption that he would be welcomed, especially after the events of the previous day. But before she could make a move to turn around and face him, his hand landed on her shoulder, slowly rubbing the bare skin in a tender and affectionate way that he had no right to use, not after what he had done.

"It's all right," he spoke up when she jerked. "Stay still, my beautiful Kahlan." She felt his breath over her ear as his smooth and calm voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Ric—Richard?" Kahlan questioned, just to make sure her anger wasn't clouding her senses and that it was, indeed, her husband.

"Shh," he purred, his breath moist and warm against the nape of her neck. His fingers tickled her skin as he brushed her hair aside. "This is for you, Kahlan… all for you."

Despite her feelings, Kahlan could not help but moan when his lips touched her flesh, gently kissing and sucking on her neck and shoulder. His hand tenderly rubbed up and down her arm as he continued to kiss her. She closed her eyes, feeling the walls she had built up, fortifying her heart against his attempts to curry favor, begin to crumble. Her body quivered and her chest clenched with all the longing she had for this man. It was hard not to want him. Kahlan knew all the women were infatuated with him. Richard was just that sort of man… so how could he not resist when women practically threw themselves at him.

However, Kahlan felt her resolve slowly begin to melt away as he devoured her neck. Blinking, and sucking in a quick breath, Kahlan regained her senses. She gritted her teeth and called up her anger, reminding herself of what this man had done. Pushing his hand away and pulling her neck away from his lips, she groaned slightly as she shifted around to face him.

"I don't need your pity!" she snarled, glaring hard at his befuddled expression. Spirits, he was so handsome. Kahlan scrunched her eyebrows up and steeled herself to remain strong. She was not going to allow him to melt away her resolve with his gorgeous brown eyes.

"What do you mean?" he inquired, looking innocent.

"Come on, you know what I mean!" Kahlan snapped back. "You'll only make love—if you could even call it that—to me because it is your duty as my husband. I know very well that you'll rather be in bed with someone else… Spirits, Richard, I saw you kissing her in the kitchens. Not to mention all those Mord'Sith who fawn over you. I sure their nice and flexible, and eager to please."

"You're wrong, Kahlan," Richard spoke up, his voice low, almost a growl, as if he was furious about being doubted. "Why would I want to sleep with them when I have you? I may not have all my memories, Kahlan, but I remember marrying you. I remember your cries of ecstasy as we made love on our wedding night. Dammit, Kahlan, I love you… I love you more than life itself!"

"Tell that to your whores!" she spat back. Kahlan tried to move, but his hand holding her face was too strong, and she was unable to do anything except avert her eyes from his. "What do you want?" she questioned, but soon lost her train of thought when he eyes caught sight of his undressed state. She gulped and drank in the vision of his chiseled chest and hard abs. If nothing else, he was definitely a vision to behold.

It had been so long since Kahlan had seen Richard so exposed and without clothing. The times they had made love during the past weeks had all been hurried and quick, and had mainly consisted of him pushing her skirts up and unlacing his trousers, pulling himself out and shoving up into her from behind. Though she had enjoyed the energy and wild passion of his lovemaking—if you could even call it that, it wasn't the same as feeling and seeing his entire body move and mold against hers as they made love. And despite the wall of anger she wanted to uphold, she felt herself beginning to melt, and could feel the stirrings of arousal in her body.

Her cheek blushed bright pink when she shifted slightly and felt something brush against her thigh. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and allowed her eyes to travel further south. When she glimpsed the source of the warm firmness that was pressing up against her thigh, Kahlan's eyes grew wide in astonishment. How could he be so aroused, especially with how she appeared in her present condition?

Richard seemed to notice her change in expression, because he smiled and inched close to her, pressing his aroused state up even more up against her. If it was not for the fabric of her nightgown, his hardness would literally be rubbing against the folds of her femininity. The thought alone made her cheeks flush with arousal.

"I think you know what I want," he breathed out in a husky voice filled with deep desire and sexual need.

"How… how can you be… be so excited?" Kahlan did not know what compelled her to ask that question. "I… I'm hideous!" she wailed. Her outburst shocked him to such an extent that she was able to free herself from his grasp and turn, putting her back to him. She buried her head into the pillow and sobbed softly.

"Oh, Kahlan, you're not hideous," Richard soothed softly, gently rubbing her upper arm.

"Yes I am!" Spirits, she did not know why she was agreeing with him. "I'm fat and repulsive. And I know you think so. Why else has our lovemaking become so infrequent? And when you do come to me, what we do could hardly be called lovemaking. All I get is pity sex… no, not even that… Duty sex! That's all you've given me. If you really loved me, you would have made love to me like you had before I started to show."

She shivered, feeling his hand skim down her side and rest on her hip. Kahlan bit her trembling lower lip, feeling him press his body flush up against her back. She could feel his hardness dig into the soft flesh of her rear, causing her chest to tighten and her breath to quicken. Spirits, how did he do this to her? How did he manage to turn her into a puddle of mush? His fingers tickled her back and she felt him begin to unbutton the back of her nightgown. Her eyebrows rose as she remembered that she had picked out this nightgown for this very reason.

"What… what are you doing?" she numbly asked, too afraid to say much more than that.

"I'm going to prove to you that these ridiculous delusions you have, Kahlan, are just that… delusions!" he asserted in a firm and confident voice, as if he was going to win this little war they were waging. But then his voice grew soft and sorrowful. "But also to make amends for not being more attentive, as I should have been. I never want you to think that I don't desire you, Kahlan. Because even now, as much as you don't think so, I find you to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You're even more beautiful because you are carrying my child. Spirits, Kahlan, I want to see you smile and laugh again. I want to see you smile. You beam like a thousand suns when you smile. You've looked radiant since the moment you child has begun to grow inside you. And dammit, Kahlan, I love you too much to lose you over some silly mistake and misunderstanding."

She wanted to refute him and tear down his argument, but, at that moment, Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor of the Midlands, found herself mute. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt his fingers part the back of her nightgown, just below her neck, and his warm breath blew out across her exposed skin. His lips touched sensitive skin below the nape of her neck, sending even more tingling sensations running down her spine. His hand continued to work on the buttons, traveling further south. Kahlan remained still, trying to calm her breathing. He was tearing down her defenses so quickly. She wanted to seize control, but the feel of his fingertips brushing against her bare skin was enough to make her want to surrender.

Closing her eyes, Kahlan lost herself in the feel of his hands and the phantom touches of his lips as they softly kissed her neck and back. Soon, her nightgown was fully undone, and he was pulling her arm up to remove it from the sleeve. Kahlan blinked, watching as that half of the nightgown was flung over her and her front was exposed as well. Her mouth dropped and a gasp escaped when she felt his hand cup her full breast and gave it a squeeze. Though her nipple was sore and tender to the touch, every time his thumb brushed over it, Kahlan felt a trickle of pleasure. He knew enough to apply just the right amount of pressure to give her pleasure instead of pain.

His lips descended on her neck again, kissing and sucking at her supple flesh. He murmured into her skin, telling her how much he loved her and how much he had longed to be in her bed again—to touch and kiss her as he was doing now. He told her that just the thought of her made him hard, and that he had held out on even pleasuring himself, despite his ache for a release, wanting to only find pleasure whilst with her. He apologized profusely for making her think otherwise, that it was a terrible mistake, and that he had taken steps to remedy the situation. As he continued to whisper to her, Kahlan let her defensive wall crumble and she simply basked in the feeling of her body responding to his attentions. She arched her neck to look over her shoulder.

Richard shifted and brought his lips to hers. Kahlan could not help but moan into his mouth as his tongue shoved past her lips and explored the wet warmth of hers. Their tongues touched and Kahlan could not help but groan at the spark it ignited. She closed her eyes and deepened the kiss, relishing the taste of him. His hand continued to softly massage her breast, and she felt his other hand drift further down her back until he was cupping her rear. His fingers dug into the soft flesh as he squeezed it, eliciting a moan from her lips. His hand slipped between her thighs and he lifted her right leg into the air, giving himself access to the warm spot between her legs, a spot that had slowly begun to grow moist.

"Richard, what—?" her question was caught off when her mouth dropped, a low throat moan silencing her words. Unable to form any words, Kahlan stared into his eyes, telling him with just a look how much she enjoyed the things his hands were doing to her body. She whimpered softly and began to pant as his fingers started to stroke over her special place, teasing and tantalizing her with his touch.

"All for you, my Kahlan," Richard encouraged her to moan more by peppering soft kisses along her jaw and cheek, visibly happy that he had made her speechless. "For you alone." He leaned forward and sucked on her shoulder as he shifted his hand from her breast, lowering it around her head, so that he could wrap it around her, resting it between her left shoulder and the mattress, as he maneuvered himself closer. His right hand worked her femininity, rubbing and caressing her folds, his thumb teasing the sensitive skin surround her special place.

Kahlan could do nothing but quake with pleasure as his hand worked her between her legs. This was the Richard she remembered, the one who sought to please her above all else. If he truly did not want her, he would have already taken her and spilled his seed. She shivered and groaned, turning her head into his arm, startled that she was starting to suck and nibble it like she would if she had had access to his neck. She heard Richard chuckle as he noticed what she was doing, his breath was warm against the nape of her neck and Kahlan felt him nuzzle her hair, blowing out soft kisses.

Richard continued to suck on her shoulder, occasionally bringing his tongue out to run it along the curve of her neck, before descending back down to devour the supple flesh between her neck and shoulder. As Kahlan began to grow numb with his ministrations, she soon became aware that she was dripping wet and panting hard. She arched her neck, wanting to look into his eyes and confirm that this was not a dream, that her husband had come to her, not for duty, but to please her and take his own pleasure in her flesh and not someone else's.

"It's me, Kahlan," he whispered into her ear, gazing deeply into her eyes. "It's not a dream. It is very much real."

Kahlan trembled and a single tear ran down her cheek when she realized that this was not a dream and was, indeed, as he had said, very much real. He smiled at her, and kissed away her tear, running his lips across her cheek until they met her lips. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his mouth.

While his lips were distracting her, Richard's hand began to work her with more vigor between her legs. Kahlan broke away and stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the look of utter love she saw there. Her lips quivered and dropped to let out a moan as he spread her folds, slipping one finger up into her moistness. Kahlan squirmed in delight, smiling at him, and moved her hips, rocking them gently, softly pleading for him to give her more.

He shifted closer and his left arm was able to come up from the mattress, bending at the elbow, giving his hand the necessary clearance to reach her chest. Kahlan felt her whole body tingle as he captured her lips in his again, another finger being added into her wetness as his thumb continued to tease and rub against her special place, making her tremble and rive, bucking her hips against his fingers.

Moving her head away, Kahlan rested it against the pillow, staring numbly down at her chest as his left hand continued to fondle her breasts. She couldn't see past the swell of her belly, but even if she could not see what his other hand was doing, she could feel it. She whimpered softly, feeling her whole body come alive with sensations she had not felt in weeks. It had been a long time since Richard had brought her to orgasm.

"You… you do love me," she whispered between pants as she felt his arousal grow even harder against her back at the very same moment that she came, releasing a gush of fluids against his hand, making her thighs wet and slick. Her body wiggled and her spine danced with sensations as the euphoria of her release blinded her to everything else except for the burning fire between her legs.

He slowly brought her back down from the bliss of release, kissing her neck softly as he arched over her to lovingly gaze down at her. The hand that had been stimulating her was caressing her arm, and Kahlan let out a soft groan, feeling the wetness the coated his fingers. Richard smiled at her and brought his fingers to her mouth, running them along her lower lip before allowing her to lick and suck off her own essence. She shivered and moaned, always finding it strange and highly arousing to taste herself. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at Richard.

"Is… is that all?" she asked in a shaking voice, still overwhelmed with all the aftershocks of her sexual release. "Are you not going to take pleasure as well?"

"Oh, Kahlan, you're absolutely hilarious," Richard chuckled, leaning over her to kiss her neck and run his mouth down her shoulder to capture one of her breasts in his mouth. Kahlan moaned and arched her back up into him, her eyes fogging with pleasure as his tongue teased her aching nipple. There was a soft wet pop noise when he released her breast from his mouth. Richard smiled lazily at her and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I have yet to begin, my Kahlan," he finally finished his answer, giving her a wink, and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Kahlan's heart jumped in her chest at his comment, and she felt his hand drift down to lift her right leg into the air as she felt him shift behind her, positioning himself.

Kahlan let out a long throaty moan as she felt him slowly slide his hardness against her folds, before his pelvis was firmly pressed up against the soft flesh of her bottom. He let go of her leg, and she held it up, allowing him to reach down and rub her wetness. She felt him grin against her neck as he noticed she was still extremely moist down there, more than ready to accept him into her, but he made no move, waiting for her to give him permission.

"Yes, Richard… oh, please… yes," she panted softly, closing her eyes in anticipation of feeling him enter her for the first time in a week, knowing full well that unlike some of their previous times in the past month when they had been together, this time she was fully aroused and wet, definitely ready to accept him fully inside her wet heat.

Richard kissed her pale shoulder and she felt his breath grow heavy and warm against her skin. "Look at me," he ordered softly.

Kahlan shifted her head to gaze up at him. Richard looked down at her, his warm brown eyes drifting across her entire face. Eventually he settled on her eyes and he looked long and hard at her, his eyes telling her nothing but love. She blinked and gasped when he bucked his hips up and entered her. Spirits, it had never felt so good. His hand grabbed her thigh and helped her hold up her leg as he began to thrust back and forth inside her, his eyes constantly locked on hers.

"Kiss… kiss me," she commanded, her eyelids fluttering as she began losing her breath. Why was it so easy for him to make her breathless?

"Always, my Kahlan," Richard replied, leaning forward to take her lips in his. They kissed slowly, each closing their eyes as they simply explored each other's lips with a leisurely pace neither had ever done before.

His movements were slow and steady, drawing out their lovemaking, making it long and lasting. Kahlan had no complaints. After spending days without him inside her, she would rather take it slower than the frenzied passionate lovemaking that they usually did. His gradual movements had the extra benefit of allowing him to ease more and more of his fullness into her, until her wet sheath was consuming his entire length. Kahlan let out a deep shuttering moan as her entire body convulsed when he impacted her core. She came on the spot, her juices dripping past his hardness, soaking her inner thighs and the bedcovers beneath them.

Coming down from the nirvana of a second straight orgasm, Kahlan moved her head and whimpered softly, raising her eyebrows as her eyes searched for his. She found him and smiled languidly. "Oh, Richard… you… you do love me," she said again, feeling her heart beat fasting in her chest and her body quiver as he pushed back up to touch her inner core.

"I've always loved you, Kahlan, always," he whispered into her hair. "And I will always want and desire you…"

"Even when I grow fat with child?" she asked between panting breaths as he let go of her leg to grip her hip to quicken his pace.

"Even then, my love. Always," Richard murmured against her lips before seizing them in a fierce and passionate kiss that left her breathless.

Richard's fingers dug into the flesh around her hip, his lips aggressively devouring hers, as he continued to take her from behind. His other hand still played with her breasts. Kahlan's cheeks had flushed to the point where they felt like they were on fire. And from the feelings that were stirring within her core, she had little doubt that he might just bring her to the edge again. It was all so surreal, like a dream. Richard had yet to reach his own release, and here she seemed to be building up to a third.

"Oh, spirits, Richard… yes… yes… YES!" Kahlan let go and screamed his name at the top of her lungs, not caring if anyone heard her cries of ecstasy.  _Let them know!_  she thought.  _Let them all know what he does to me, the Mother Confessor. Let them know that there is no doubt that he loves me and me alone._  Kahlan was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. No man, who did not love his woman this much, would work so hard as Richard was to please her before he even thought of pleasing himself.

This release had been more powerful than the last. It seemed to be that way. With each succeeding release, they got more and more euphoric. She had almost blacked out, like she usually did when her powers surged and snapped, searching for a soul to take. But with magic diminished, Kahlan's confessing powers never came and she was able to experience the full heights of sexual release without the interference of the numbing and energy sapping powers of confession.

Heaving in deep breaths, Kahlan blinked back and noticed that Richard had shifted her onto her back. She was confused at first, but then she felt him thrust up into her. She shuddered and moaned, unable to hide the pleasure she felt from her Richard being within. Arching her neck, she gazed down to see Richard looming over her, holding her legs, using his strong arms to keep her legs spread and aloft as he sat on his knees and gazed down upon her as he moved his hips back and forth against her quivering flesh.

"I… I did not know we could still do it like this," she let out a breath, her entire body tingling.

Richard nodded, breathing heavily, his eyes glazed with lust and passion, but with love always there. "It… it is possible… but later… later this will be more difficult. You'll still be able to ride me, but this way won't be possible again, at least until after you give birth. But since it's possible right now, I wanted to do it, for you… so that you could see my face when I release."

Kahlan smiled up at him and nodded, touched that he knew how much she enjoyed watching him emote the pleasure he felt when he released his seed within her. He wasn't able to bend over and kiss her like before, because the swell of her belly prevent it, but she could still see his face. And it was helpful that he assisted in holding her legs up and keeping them spread apart. The further he spread them, the more room he had to move between them. As he quickened his pace, thrusting harder and harder up into her, Kahlan was worried for a moment that their passion might harm the baby, but she soon lost herself in the delights that came from seeing Richard moving back and forth above her, of feeling his pelvis connect with hers as he drove deeper and deeper into her moist wetness.

Parting her lips, Kahlan concentrated on helping him along. She squeezed her inner muscles around his length as he drove into her, watching in delight as it caused him to groan with want. He moved one of her legs and rested it against his shoulder. With his free hand, he reached out for hers, tangling their fingers together. Kahlan liked it. It had been a while since they had held hands like this as they made love. And it was one of the small things he had done on their wedding night that Kahlan had truly loved. It had added another feeling of intimacy between them that she had not thought possible after they had quite literally explore each inch of their bodies.

Her breath grew quick and she could feel her cheeks begin to flush, knowing she was rapidly approaching a fourth release. It was mind-boggling that such a thing was possible. The previous times they had made love, Richard could bring her to maybe two orgasms before he himself could no longer hold back. So the fact that she was about to reach her fourth was a bit overwhelming, and more evidence—in her mind—of his love and devotion to her. If he was truly only here to do his duty as her husband, he would not have bothered to take her to such extremes.

Holding his hand tightly, Kahlan gazed up at him, watching as he kissed her leg and foot, teasing her by licking at and then suckling her big toe. Kahlan giggled softly, before a moan escaped her lips as she felt Richard's length impact her core again. She was amazed at how often he seemed capable of doing that. Letting her other legs fall to the mattress, Richard grasped her squirming hip, steadying it as he drove deeply into her. This time, when he hit her core, Kahlan released, screaming so loudly with ecstasy that she could think of nothing but the pleasure sensors in her body exploding. The release was indeed more powerful and profound than the previous ones, yet she managed to retain awareness enough to command her inner muscles to squeeze. Kahlan smiled to herself, hearing Richard's low and throaty groan as she did so.

Despite the fact Richard had told her this was about her, she still wanted to please him. He was, after all, her husband, and just as he had responsibilities to please her, so did she with him. His body tensed and his hand gripping her hip squeezed her flesh so tightly that it almost hurt. Kahlan watched with big eyes as his face showed the depth of his release, telling her that it was one of the most powerful he had ever experienced. And though his entire body seemed to tremble with the force of it, his eyes remained glued on her, his lips slowly forming her name. Her heart soared with joy, seeing how much pleasure creased his face as he softly groaned her name, yet more proof against her wild delusions that anyone else beneath him could give him such a release. And staring at her only seemed to make his release all the more stronger, because it was obvious, even to her, that the orgasm that rocked his body continue much longer than the spilling of his seed.

As he removed himself from her, Kahlan could feel his seed seep out around his hardness and drip out around her folds, caking her inner thighs. Richard moved and laid down on the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a long and deep kiss. Kahlan closed her eyes, bringing her hands up to run her fingers through his tangled dark hair. She laughed softly as he moaned into her mouth as her fingers tugged at his hair, pulling him closer.

"Thank you, Richard," she murmured breathlessly when he pulled back, his chest heaving as he took in deep breaths.

"For what, Kahlan?" he asked, as if he didn't know.

Kahlan rolled her eyes at him and gave his cheek a playful slap. "You know, silly," she laughed. "For not giving up on me, for insisting on reminding me of how much you love me…" she paused and took in a long breath, watching as one of his hands slowly snaked across her chest to cup her breast. She locked eyes with him. "I cannot believe you did that…"

"Did what?"

"Oh come on, Richard… four… four times."

"I believe it was six, actually," he interrupted smugly.

" _Six_?" she knitted her eyebrows together and mentally replayed the events, counting. "No… it was four, I'm sure! But I don't blame you for thinking it was more." She smiled and curled up next to him, giggling as he groped at her breasts.

"I'm going to get jealous when our daughter is born," he said, feigning a pout, his eyes gazing with adoration at her breasts.

"Don't worry, I'll teach her to share," Kahlan flashed a smile at him, loving how she made him laugh.

His hand slowly moved from her breast to run circles around her belly. A lazy smile formed over his lips. "Was this like that?" he asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Kahlan furrowed her brow, confused as to what he was referring to.

"When we made her," he elaborated. "Was this as good as then?"

Kahlan shifted against him, letting out a breath along his shoulder, which made him shiver pleasantly. "I don't know," she said, knitting her eyebrows together as she thought. "Would it make hurt your feelings if I said it was better when we made her?" Sure this time had been great. Never once had he brought her to four orgasms in one round, but the night they had made their child was a long blur of such pleasures that Kahlan could not pinpoint an exact time that she had not been moaning in exquisite rapture.

"No," Richard said. "However, it just means I'm going to have to wait a couple more months to try and get you into some different positions." He lowered his head, pressing his lips against her hair and whispered into her ear. Her eyes grew wide at the suggestion her made.

"Oh yes," she smiled, nodding. "We will definitely have to try that out once I'm back to form after giving birth."

He chuckled, causing his body to shake with mirth. "I certainly hope I haven't showed you everything yet."

"Don't worry, I bet once all of your memories return, you'll find some more ways to make me quiver and squirm beneath you… or over you, whichever floats your boat," Kahlan jested, feeling his hand move down her belly to play with the curly hairs surrounding her femininity.

Looking up at him suspiciously, Kahlan's cheeks flushed when she saw the hungry look in his eyes. She let her hand trail down the contours of his hard body, dropping below his waist, letting out a gasp of surprise when she found he was growing ready for more fun.

"So soon… again?" she murmured, half in a whisper, too stunned to believe that he was already ready to make love to her all over again.

"Kahlan, Kahlan, Kahlan," Richard shook his head back and forth, a grin spreading across his face. "When will you learn? It doesn't take much for you to get me hard. And I'll gladly make love to you over and over and over again until we're both so exhausted we can't even speak."

Kahlan merely gaped at him in marvel and astonishment, wondering what she had done—out of all confessors—to be the one blessed enough to earn, yes  _earn_ , the right to find a love that required no confession and no magic to keep. Richard smirked at her and gave a wink, his hand continuing to knead her breast, as he shifted her onto her side and pulled her back into his chest. He kissed her neck and shoulder.

"Ready for round two?" he asked as his hand drifted down to pull her leg up.

"How… how many rounds, exactly, do you have in mind?" she managed to gasp out, almost so quickly that she did not know if he had heard her.

"As I said," he purred into her ear, the sound of his voice making her eyes roll into the back of her head with anticipation of what he was promising. "Until were both too exhausted to do anything but breath."

Her pulse raced and her eyelids fluttered as she swiveled her head around to look at him. "I'm already breathless, Richard," she whimpered, squinting and moaning as she felt him push up into her. "But I'm willing to test the strength of my threshold… as long as you're right beside me."

"Oh, Kahlan, I'm going to do a lot more than just be beside you," Richard whispered into her lips as he bucked his hips up, pushing more of his length up into her wet warm core. "So much more."

Richard Rahl, the Seeker of Truth and the Master of D'Hara… her husband, the man she loved more than life itself and the man who loved her with all his being, then took her lips in his and Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor, willingly surrendered herself to the rapture he brought with him.


	25. Lights

Kahlan was always breathless after Richard made love to her. And when she thought about him making love to her, she was not thinking of a quickie in the hallway closet, but a long and passionate series of pleasure checkpoints that he always hit right on the dot, making her moan and tremble with indescribable ecstasy. The last time Richard had made love to her in just such a fashion had been on their wedding night. And now, nearly five months after that glorious night, he had done it again. Yet this time, in so doing, he had also restored her faith in him and his love for her… and her alone.

Once they had both succumbed to exhaustion, they had collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Richard had drifted off into dreamland. It had taken Kahlan a little longer to come down from the highs of nirvana that he had brought her to, but once she did, she had gotten some sleep. But her rest only lasted so long. It had not help matters that they had fallen asleep on top of the covers. And to make matters worse, many spots on the coverlet were soaked from the wet fluids that had gushed out of Kahlan like a flood every time Richard stimulated her beyond the point of no return. He had seeded her so much that her insides could not hold it all, and his seed had mixed with her own essence to further ruin the coverlet.

Now, lying awake on the cold wet top blanket of her big bed, Kahlan shivered and grumbled, knowing that her favorite coverlet was most likely ruined. However, she was willing to accept it, because it had been their passionate lovemaking that had ruined it. Taking in a slow breath as she curled up beside the strong and sleeping frame of her beloved, Kahlan could not help but feel guilty for ever doubting him. She vowed that she would try her best not to allow her jealous side to seize control again. Other women may fawn and throw themselves at him, but Kahlan—and only her—was the woman Richard wanted to make love to. And he had proved it last night.

Pushing herself up on an elbow, Kahlan gazed down on his handsome face, watching as his eyes moved beneath his lids as he dreamed. Slowly, she ran her fingers along his brow, brushing away his unruly hair. "I love you, my Richard," she murmured softly.

Breathing in deeply, Kahlan shifted to scoot closer to him. She let out a soft groan as she moved her hips, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Her inner thighs ached, but in a good way. She smiled, remembering how slow and long lasting their lovemaking had been at the start, and how it had gradually picked up to a pace that had resulted in Kahlan having more internal bursts of pleasure than she had ever thought possible. And if she had not been pregnant from the beginning, she had no doubt that she would be now.

Letting out a frustrated breath, unable to find a comfortable position, she cursed under her breath and turned onto her back. Gazing up at the rosewood ceiling above her, Kahlan rested her hands on her swollen belly. She wondered what their daughter had thought of all the pounding and loud screams she heard from outside the safe and comforting warmth of the womb. Kahlan had no doubt that the entire palace—if not the city—was aware of what had been going on in the Mother Confessor's bedchambers. She had cried so loudly with each successive release that her voice was almost hoarse. Richard had lost the ability to even speak near the end, and had to content himself with simply low growls and grunts to emote his pleasure and love. Though, when he reached his final release of the evening, he did manage to call up enough energy to softly moan her name.

That was one of the things she'd never get tired of, hearing Richard moan her name in the heights of pleasure. She felt confident that he felt the same about her moaning his name. And there were other things she never got tired of. Kahlan firmly believed that she would never tire of that initial connection, when Richard pushed himself up into her and her inner muscles contracted at the intrusion. She loved doing that to him, making a low throaty groan escape his lips. The first couple of times during the night, she had let him take control of the connection, but as the evening went on, she varied the speed and pressure of his entrances, heightening not only her pleasure, but his as well.

Being with Richard was one of the greatest things that had ever happened to her. And she wasn't just thinking about the physical sense of being one with him—though that was pretty damn great, itself—but of the love that they shared. Once, Richard had told her that their souls had already mingled and become one, and that even if they had never physically been capable of consummating their love, he would have died a happy man, knowing that he had shared a love so pure and eternal that when he was without her, he had felt incomplete. Well, they had managed to consummate their love, and Richard assured her that he had no intention of dying until he was more wrinkled than Zedd, and he made her promise to do the same, which she eagerly agreed, though she wondered how attractive she'd be then.

"Thinking happy thoughts?"

Kahlan jerked, and let out a gasp, as his voice called her from her thoughts. She held still, watching with big eyes as his hand came up to touch her jaw and cheek. It slowly slinked down her neck and shoulder to cup one of her breasts. She smiled, feeling his breath on her face as he leaned over to plant a soft kiss on her lips as his hand began to lightly squeeze her full breast, teasing the aching nipple.

"Always," she eventually murmured in reply.

Richard grinned and eased back down onto the mattress. "Are you cold?" he asked, stopping his fondling and simply laying his hand out across her breast, his voice sounding concerned.

"No…," she shook her head and looked over at him, smiling at how the waning moonlight played across his features.

"Did you get any sleep?" Richard asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Some," Kahlan answered, not knowing why she was speaking in such a soft voice.

A crooked smile formed on his lips. "Sorry for keeping you up," he chuckled softly, leaning over to kiss her pale shoulder, tenderly brushing away the long strands of her damp hair that covered her moist skin. "But I could not help myself."

"You know," Kahlan said, twiddling with her fingers over her belly. "I do believe that was our longest session of lovemaking ever."

"Really?" Richard scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at her, dubious of her assertion. He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Let's see, I came to you in mid-afternoon… and…"

"And we did not finish until three hours past midnight," Kahlan finish.

"Yeah, but our wedding night was like… what? Three days?"

"Yes…," Kahlan smiled, winking. "Three glorious days, but we weren't making love all the time. There were long intervals in-between when we were either asleep or just talking."

"Or just snuggling close and softly kissing," Richard smirked, and leaned over her to kiss her.

Kahlan licked her lips and sighed in contentment when he shifted back down to rest beside her, his hand affectionately rubbing her bare arm. "Well, this night we were in constant motion, or rather  _you_  were," Kahlan said, continuing her explanation of why this session had been the longest. "We only had one interruption and it was only brief."

"Oh yes, I remember," Richard chuckled, his mirth shaking the bed a bit. "Rikka pounded on the door and asked if we wanted supper."

"Which I tersely replied with,  _No thank you, the Seeker is filling me as we speak!_ " Kahlan laughed, still shocked she had actually said that.

Richard rolled onto his back and let out a long breath. "It was pretty good, wasn't it?" he questioned.

Kahlan shifted onto her side to look at him. "Yes… yes it was," she reached out and ran her fingers along the hard planes of his chest. "It was worthy of creating a life."

"So now you're saying it was as good as our wedding night!" Richard turned on her. "I think someone has a change of opinion." He tickled her nose with his, before capturing her lips in a long and slow kiss. Kahlan closed her eyes and moaned softly, bringing her hand up to caress the side of his face and grip at his hair. She felt him move closer to her, his hand running down the length of her hair and following the curve of her back until he reached her bottom. He gripped a good portion of her soft flesh and squeezed, eliciting a sensual groan from her mouth.

"You're in a playful mood," Kahlan moaned into his mouth.

"What did I tell you?" Richard feigned irritation.

Kahlan smiled coyly and batted her eyelashes. "That it doesn't take much for me to get you _hard_ … Ooh, and look I was right!" she beamed at him and ran her hand down his body to grip him in her hand.

Suddenly a strange noise sounded from outside. Kahlan ignored it, thinking it was just the soldiers rousing for an early morning. But when it came again, it sounded more clear and distinct, and familiar. Richard let out a frustrated groan and pulled back her hand. He gave her a quick kiss, before backing away and sliding off the bed. Kahlan pouted, glaring at his amazing backside as the perfect muscles flexed when he walked across the room to the wardrobe. He opened it and retrieved one of his cloaks, pulling it over his shoulders.

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, his expression one of a man being tortured. "Spirits, Kahlan, you're glowing like an angelic being."

"Why don't you come back to bed then and make this angel sing?" Kahlan suggested, wiggling her eyebrows.

The strange noise came drifting through the opened balcony doors again, carried by the wind. Richard visibly groaned, tormented by the decision between going to see what was making that sound or going back to the tempting woman in the bed asking for him to ravish her. Then suddenly the sound stopped and a low drumming began. Richard's eyes narrowed and his expression changed immediately.

"Kahlan, stay there," he said firmly, raising a hand to reinforce his order.

Kahlan watched as he ducked outside, tightening the cloak around him. Sighing in frustrated sexual need, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. Ignoring his order, she grunted as she heaved herself off the bed, reaching for her silk robe. Kahlan wrapped her robe around her shoulder, clutching it to her shivering frame. Walking as fast as she could, which to an outsider would look more like a waddle, Kahlan shuffled towards the balcony doors and walked out to stand by her husband.

He was standing tall, his back straight and unruly hair blowing slightly in the breeze. Kahlan shivered and tugged the robe tighter around her. Coming up to stand by his side, she looked out at the city beneath. Technically it was morning, but it was still dark outside, with only the light of the moon shining down on them. She squinted and looked out past the city walls and saw dozens of small lights appear, dotting the horizon. The low incessant drumming was coming from out there. Kahlan furrowed her brow in worry and looked up at Richard to read his expression.

Gone was her Richard, replaced by the Lord Rahl and Seeker of Truth. His shoulders were tense and his jaw was set. His brow was lowered and he had the raptor glare that was a telltale sign of his heritage. Tentatively, not sure if she should interrupt him in such a state, Kahlan reached over and grasped for his hand. He shuddered, but relaxed, and tightened his fingers around hers. She watched as he heaved in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.

"It's time, Kahlan," he spoke softly at first, his voice hard. "Spirits, look how many lights there are!"

Kahlan absently nodded, terrified by the number of small flickering lights that were manifesting below the horizon. The number was so vast that she could hardly fathom such a force.

"A million strong, said the scouts," Richard murmured. "I would not have believed it if I had not seen it for my own eyes." He paused and racked in a deep breath. "Spirits, I didn't even know there was such a number until now."

Wanting to soothe him, Kahlan inched closer to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him with all her might, trying to give him some of her own strength. His hand came up and rested on the small of her back, holding her to him.

"Oh, Kahlan," he mumbled softly. "I'm so scared."

"So am I," she whispered back.

Kahlan jumped when she heard the loud knocking coming from the strong oak door back in her bedchambers. She released Richard from her arms as he turned to go back inside to answer it. Staying out on the balcony, Kahlan turned to look out at the glowing lights, ringing her hands together in front of her as she watched more lights join the hundreds that were already there—soon it would be thousands, and then a million. A million lights… a million men, all willing to die in the name of the Imperial Order.

"A grim sight, indeed," she recognized Zedd's shaking voice as Richard and the old wizard, along with Cara and Captain Meiffert stepped out onto the balcony.

Richard immediately went to Kahlan, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her, holding her to his chest. He rested his on her shoulder and watched with her as the lights continued to grow in number.

"Bags! How many are there?" Zedd questioned aloud, though no one answered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kahlan noticed Cara inch closer to the D'Haran captain of the First File. The captain saw and immediately put an arm over the Mord'Sith's shoulder as Cara leaned into him, trembling slightly. The sight left Kahlan thunderstruck. She had never seen a Mord'Sith tremble in fear, yet now she had. And It was an image she never wanted to see again.


	26. Drums

The drumming continued without end, giving everyone headaches, including a very tired Lord Rahl. To say that he had gotten little sleep would be an understatement. He had spent most of the night "convincing" Kahlan of his love, and had only gotten a couple hours of sleep. But, to be honest, Richard did not mind his fatigue, because of the reason behind it. Even though there was a doom on the horizon, he wore a lazy grin, remembering all the things he had done to his beloved the night before, and all the sounds of ecstasy he had made come from her lips as he "convinced" her again, and again… and again.

So, while everyone else had headaches, Richard was too busy thinking about last nights activities, while also trying to keep a clear head to concentrate on the task at hand: The defense of Aydindril. His mind was churning a mile a minute as soldiers darted hither and thither with orders, assignments, and reports. The Lord Rahl had stationed himself in the grand square below the steps of the Confessor's Palace. It was the ideal spot for the command headquarters, because it was the most centralized location.

Richard had sent Zedd out with some Mord'Sith and D'Haran guards to run one last check on the Dragon's Breath mines, hoping that that line of defense had no gaps in it. Though, he was well aware that the Order had no qualms about using their men as cannon fodder. They certainly had enough of them to spare, unlike Richard. General Reibisch and his men made up about a hundred thousand—one tenth the size of the enemy. If he were honest with the men, Richard would have to admit that they stood no chance. That was why he was putting so much of his hopes on the Dragon's Breath.

As he was going over strategy with Nicci and General Reibisch, the old prophet with azure eyes, whom Richard had seen little of during the past months walked through the sentries surrounding the makeshift command post, joining their conversation.

"Nathan, it's been a while," Richard said, not really having any memories of the man, except for the few occasions he had seen him during tactical meetings. He knew from Warren and Zedd that the old prophet had sequestered himself away in the Wizard's Keep, searching through the archives there for anything that might help them to reverse the damage the Chimes had caused on the magic in the world. "Any luck?"

Nathan shook his head, his long silver hair moving about his Rahl features. "The Chimes were created by the wizard's in the Old World, so much of what is known about them is hearsay and unreliable at best," the prophet grumbled, looking dejected.

"Pardons, but what does it matter if magic has diminished?" General Reibisch spoke up, looking apologetic for speaking out of turn. "If we cannot use magic, so can't the enemy."

"But without magic, we have very little chance of defeating their numbers," Nicci replied, answering the general's question for Richard.

Richard nodded. "Nicci is right," he said. "Even if their dreamwalker emperor could use his powers, he'd be unable to effect us, since the bond would protect us." To tell the truth, Richard still did not fully understand this bond thing, but Cara and the Mord'Sith had tried to explain it to him. When he asked Kahlan about it, she had wrinkled her nose and tried her best, but even she did not fully understand it. Zedd knew a little about it, but not enough to make it clear to Richard. So, in the long run, he decided to just take Cara at her word that the bond had worked and had protected the D'Harans and anyone loyal to Richard from having their minds attacked by the dreamwalker.

"And since the Order condemns magic, wouldn't they be more reluctant to implement its use, then?" Reibisch was asking, his confused expression showing through his rust-colored beard.

"I'm afraid not, General," Nathan answered, glowering. "The Order may condemn magic, but they'll have no reservations about using it to decimate us."

"He's right," Nicci affirmed. "The Emperor and the Brotherhood of the Order are nothing but hypocrites. They sing the praises of the Creator and preach self-sacrifice and fellowship, expecting everyone to live in an idealized utopia that cannot exist in reality, especially when those in charge are despots and tyrants. Their communes only work in small groups, and have never succeeded in keeping the entire economy of a large city, much less an empire, sustained. I've seen the poverty and misery that is a result of the Order's teachings, and believe me when I say they will have no qualms about ignoring their own beliefs in order to destroy us all. The authority in the Old World stops at nothing to silence dissenters. For them, it's a  _you're with us, or against us_  kind of mentality."

Nathan nodded. "Better to fight and die than live under their boot."

Reibisch, though a veteran of numerous campaigns under both Panis Rahl and Darken Rahl, visibly paled. "Then is there no hope?"

"There is always hope," Richard spoke up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed up at the Confessor's Palace and thinking of Kahlan—she was his reason to hope and fight, not to mention their yet unborn child. Though he still did not have much of his memories, he would sacrifice anything for the woman who carried his child and held his heart. "As long as there are but a few of us who are still fighting the good fight, then there is always hope."

"Agreed, Lord Rahl," Reibisch pounded his fist to his chest, inclining his head.

"Nathan," Richard said, leaning forward in his backless folding chair. "Perhaps if you ask Warren to assist you, we may yet find an answer."

Nicci knitted her perfect eyebrows together. "Then you're saying that we need magic to stop them?"

"All I'm saying is that I'd take anything we've got," he replied noncommittally. "Nathan?"

The old man rubbed his shaved chin and looked intently at Richard with his azure eyes. "The young fellow does have an excellent mind, and a keen sense of intuition," he replied. "Yes. With his help, I may be able to find an answer, but I don't think we'll find it here. The Wizard's Keep may be old, and may have been the base for the wizards of old during the Great War, but the true heart of the resistance against the Old World and their corrupt ideas was D'Hara… our ancestors, Richard. The Rahls."

Richard shuddered, feeling uncomfortable about his origins and being related to them. He had no memory of Darken Rahl, which he was not sure was a good thing or not, but he knew from what Kahlan and the others told him that the House of Rahl had ruled D'Hara for centuries with an iron fist, one tyrant after the next. He found it difficult to believe that such reprobates had descended from Alric Rahl, the War Wizard who had founded the House of Rahl and created the bond in order to protect his people, but, nonetheless, they had. Richard was told how, last year, he had discovered a secret room in the People's Palace, which Alric had created specifically for Richard, having prophesied him as his true and rightful heir. Richard did not understand that, and had to ask Zedd to elaborate on what Cara had told him.

"From what you told me, my boy," Zedd had explained. "Alric somehow foresaw that both sides of the gift—additive and subtractive—would lay dormant in his bloodline until you were born. According to you, the old goat even created a hidden place for you and your progeny."

"The place Kahlan and I went for our honeymoon," Richard had interjected.

"Yes," continued Zedd. "And in that place, at least from what I remember you telling me, there were books that Alric Rahl left for you. You even said that you had found a letter specifically addressed to  _Richard Rahl, Seeker of Truth and Master of D'Hara_. Who knows, my boy, once we vanquish these bothersome Chimes, you might become clairvoyant. It appears to run in your blood."

Closing his eyes and giving his head a slight shake, Richard returned to the present. "Then you, Warren, and Verna should head for the People's Palace at once," he said. "Captain Meiffert and the First File have already come up with an escape route, for when we have to abandon the city, so I'll tell him to have some of his men escort you. The smaller the group, the less of a likelihood of you being discovered."

Nathan nodded. "A wise precaution."

Richard signaled a messenger and sent word to Captain Meiffert, who was currently up along the walls with the men. "Now, from what we've gathered, the Imperial Order is gearing up for a long siege," he informed the others.

Reibisch nodded. "They must know we have ample supplies."

"Those won't last too long," Nicci said. "I still think we should abandon the city."

Richard shook his head. Though, strategically, he agreed with Nicci, the Seeker knew that Aydindril was of vital moral importance to the rest of the Midlands. Once Aydindril fell, it would only be a matter of time until the rest of the Midlands fell with it. And Richard wanted to keep that beacon of hope, so to speak, lit for as long as possible.

"I understand your point of view, Nicci," Richard asserted his thoughts. "But we won't simply abandon this city. It is the beating heart of the Midlands… and we need to keep it standing free for as long as we are able. The free people of the Midlands need to know that we have not abandoned them."

"We can do that from D'Hara," Nicci protested.

"But then we won't be doing it  _in_  the Midlands," Richard countered. He then gave a wave of his hand, ending the discussion. "We've gone over this before, the decision has been made." He took a quick breath. "Now, on to a more sensitive matter… the Mother Confessor." He had been avoiding this topic, having been dreading it, but he knew that he had to make a decision, and soon.

He paused and squinted in the light of the mid-morning sun, seeing Cara and a group of a dozen Mord'Sith on the approach. The sentries parted and let them through. Richard stood up from his chair to greet her. Cara had changed back into her red leather. Last night, Richard had been stunned when he had seen her in nothing but a simple shift, which had also been quite revealing. He had deduced that Cara and Meiffert had most likely been doing what Kahlan and himself had been doing. Now, however, his Mord'Sith friend looked like her old self, down to the long blonde braid that trailed down her back. Richard had told her that she did not need to grow it back, but Cara had insisted, saying it was a sign of her authority, seeing how he had made her the commander of the Mord'Sith.

"Lord Rahl," she nodded crisply in greeting as she came to a halt.

"Cara," Richard inclined his head. He noticed her narrow her eyes a bit as her eyebrows knitted together in thought. "What is it?"

"There is a prisoner who wishes to see you," she said.

"A prisoner?" Reibisch scoffed. He turned to Richard. "Don't trouble yourself, Lord Rahl. I'll send one of my lieutenants."

Cara shook her head, her brow creasing. "This prisoner had originally requested an audience with the Mother Confessor," she informed them.

"Which you denied, of course," Nicci said, nodding.

The Mord'Sith looked to Nicci and then back to Richard. "We picked him up yesterday, out near the fields where we were placing the Dragon's Breath mines," Cara said, then stepped forward and lowered her voice so that only Richard could hear. "Richard… he arrived while you were planning your reunion with Kahlan… and he immediately requested that we take him to the Mother Confessor, which of course I denied, because of what you were planning and because of her current state of mind… not to mention her present condition, with being with child and everything."

"Cara, relax," Richard took a step forward and placed a hand on her arm, stopping her before she continued rambling on. He furrowed his brow, utterly perplexed. "Just tell me what's the matter."

"Richard…," Cara took a long breath, looking slightly distressed. "He's not just some ordinary prisoner asking to see a confessor to be judged. He… he's… he is Kahlan's father."


	27. Father

"What? No!" Kahlan shook her head, unable to do anything else but that. "I will not see him!" Just so that she was understood, she stomped her foot on the marble floor of the council chambers, and listened to it reverberated off the dome above. At that moment, she felt very much like a little child, but she did not care.

This unwelcome reminder of her past had been like a slap in the face. However, despite the trying circumstances of their last encounter, she had managed to make peace with her father, finally understanding him a little better than she had before. Though it still did not excuse the things he had done to her and Dennee when they were children, and the things he had made them do. And now, here he was, ready to interfere in her life all over again. How could he do this to her, now of all times, when the whole world was under siege of the dark shadow cast by the monstrous terror that was the Imperial Order. Not to mention the happiness she felt with her personal life, having, just last night, reconciled with her husband.

Her chest tightened and she found she was having difficulty breathing. Richard was by her side in a flash and helped her over to her chair, the Mother Confessor's chair, and the seat of her power in the Midlands. She eased down into the cushioned seat but did not let go of Richard's hand, silently pleading him with her eyes to remain. She needed his strength and comfort. He gave her a small smile, and stayed standing by her side, holding her hand in his.

"Does he say what he wants?" Richard asked, understanding she could not speak right now. She was grateful for that, thinking that it showed another way that they were one. He had noticed her anxiety and had taken away the burden of having to speak, doing it himself.

Standing before them, in the center of the council chambers, Cara shook her head. "All he says is that he must see the Mother Confessor, and if that is not possible… then the Lord Rahl," the Mord'Sith answered.

"He didn't even come when Dennee died! He didn't even come for our wedding!" Kahlan blurted out, looking up at Richard with watery eyes.

He lowered his brow and knelt before her, placing a hand on her knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "If you don't want to see him, then you don't have to," he told her, looking into her eyes with the utter devotion he always held for her. Yet she saw something else there, not just his love, but also his need to protect her.

Kahlan let out a shallow breath and gave him a smile. "Thank you, Richard."

"However…," Richard continued, and her heart sank, afraid of what he might say. "He might have some news. After all, he did say he came from Galea, right?" Richard looked up to Cara for confirmation.

"That's what he said, yes," Cara nodded, looking wary.

"Richard? You aren't saying you're going to give him an audience?" Kahlan clutched at his shirt, feeling distressed. She didn't want her father anywhere knew the only man who had ever truly loved her for who she was, not for what she was. She was panting heavily from anxiety and fear, her chest felt tight and her head felt light. She looked at Richard with worry, and started to hyperventilate.

"Kahlan," Richard moved his hand up from her knee to caress the side of her face. "Look at me. Calm down. It's okay. I'm here. Breathe…  _breathe_."

Kahlan focused on Richard's voice, looking into his eyes and seeing his love and concern reflected back. He coaxed her along, and she mimicked his breathing, slowing her own down to match his inhales and exhales. Eventually, her breathing came down and she was once again able to feel her lungs at a normal rate. Though she had managed to come down from that terror, she still felt apprehensive.

"Richard… I don't want him in our life," she said, placing her hand over his as his fingers began to tangle into that hair around her ear.

"I understand how you feel, Kahlan," Richard said. "From what little Cara's told me about what happened to you as a child, I understand."

Kahlan caught her breath. How could Richard not remember one of the darkest chapter's in her childhood? She bit her lower lip and averted her eyes, remembering that his memories had been taken, and those that had returned were not full, but partial memories. His memories of her were not all knowing, but focused on the events that surrounded his love for her. In a way, she was jealous of Cara and the Mord'Sith. For some reason, his memories of them had been fully restored.

"However, he is still your father, Kahlan, for better or for worse," continued Richard. "Now, if you don't want to see him, we might have an option to make him think he has seen you without actually seeing you."

Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. Then it hit her. "Cynthia…," she spoke the woman's name, feeling a little bit of that jealousy she felt trickle it's way into her heart. She narrowed his eyes. "You just want to get her back into my white dress!" The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back.

Richard's eyes looked hurt for a moment, but he shook it away and let out a frustrated groan. He sat back on his legs and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kahlan," he said her name in a long frustrated breath. "I thought we were past this."

"We are, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please, forgive me," Kahlan said in a long unbroken breath, saying it so fast she was unsure if she was understandable.

His hand went back to rest on her knee, and inched a tab up her thigh. "All right," he winked and leaned over, giving her a light kiss. Standing up, Richard stretched his neck and turned to Cara, who had been pretending to be examining the ceiling while the two of them had been talking. "Send for Cynthia… and have Ruthy dress her in one of Kahlan's spare confessor gowns."

Cara nodded and departed from the room, being replaced by Rikka. The Mord'Sith, it appeared, were being really protective of them right now. Neither had been left alone since the morning preparations had begun. Kahlan took slow and steady breaths, comforted by the presence of her friends. It was still startling to believe, that she could have come to call Mord'Sith friends. Yet she had. Rikka nodded softly in her direction, before taking up a place by the door. Egan and Ulic, those two gentle D'Haran giants, were on the other side, guarding the entrance hall. With all the protection around them, Kahlan still did not feel safe, knowing that very soon her father would be in these very walls.

XXX

At first she had not liked working in the kitchen, especially when she had found out that the Mother Confessor had sent her there because she had mistakenly thought that she was having an affair with the Lord Rahl. The Lord Rahl… Richard. Cynthia smiled at the memory of him. He was like the older brother she had never had. When she was with him, she felt no fear or no worry. He was the only man in her entire life, beside her beloved Jared, who had not seen her as an object to possess. It brought joy to her heart knowing that he had trusted her to help in his quest to reconcile with the Mother Confessor. That was a mission Cynthia had enjoyed.

And now, working in the kitchens, seemed more fun. It reminded her of helping her mother prepare supper for father and his friends when they hosted them on a weekday. Cynthia had enjoyed those evenings with mother. It was one of the few times that mother had gossiped with her about the goings on in the city. Her parents had never let her go that far from the farm, that was why she and Jared had had to sneak around to meet.

Part of the risk of being discovered had given their relationship a thrill that it would have otherwise lacked. And Jared had never pressured her to make love until she was ready, unlike some of the other farm boys who had courted her. That was why, after her parents had died, that she had accepted Jared's proposal. Thinking back on the day that was both the happiest and saddest of her life, Cynthia lowered her brow and closed her eyes briefly, saying a soft prayer to the good spirits to look after Jared in the underworld and to let him know that she still loved him and would reunite with him one day.

"Cynthia!"

She looked up from the pot she was cleaning to see Cara step through the doorway. The Mord'Sith's blue eyes scanned the working tables and cooking hearths before settling on her. With deliberate steps the blonde woman covered the distance between them in little time. Cynthia's heart began to hammer in her chest, seeing the look on the Mord'Sith's face.

"Yes, Mistress Cara?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

Cara stopped before her and narrowed her eyes, a smirk forming on her lips. "It appears you're resemblance to the Mother Confessor is going to come in handy." When Cynthia stared blankly back at the Mord'Sith, utterly confused, Cara's smirk grew. "You've been summoned by the Lord Rahl. But first we must go to the Mother Confessor's bedchambers and change you into one of the white confessor gowns."

Cynthia's mouth dropped. "Why… why?"

"Lord Rahl's orders," Cara said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything. "Come… we don't have much time." The Mord'Sith grabbed her arm and began to pull her along.

Cynthia looked around at the other kitchen workers, who looked on in confusion. Everyone had heard the moans of ecstasy and passion coming from the Mother Confessor's bedchambers last night, so it was clear that she and the Lord Rahl had made up, so it was perplexing to now see the duplicate, the one who had been the source of the problem, be summon yet again by the Lord Rahl, and ordered to dress in a confessor's gown.

Ruthy was waiting for them when they entered the Mother Confessor's bedchambers, having already selected a gown. Her friend gave her a reassuring smile. Cara respectfully turned her back, grumbling something along the lines that it was not anything she had not already seen.

"What is going on?" Cynthia whispered to Ruthy, as the maidservant untied the ribbon holding Cynthia's long dark hair into a ponytail.

"All I know is that the Lord Rahl has ordered you be dressed in the confessor gown and brought to the council chambers," Ruthy answered.

Cynthia took in a deep breath. "You… you don't think he wants me to submit to him?" She could not believe Richard would do something like that, especially after what he had told her last night. It somehow seemed out of character for him.

Ruthy shrugged as she helped Cynthia out of her blouse and skirt. "From what I heard the Mother Confessor is with him," she said. "So, to say that the Lord Rahl has summoned you is not entirely accurate. I think that they both must want you for something."

"Then why am I being dressed in a confessor's gown?" Cynthia asked, now standing in nothing but her underthings. She shivered as a cool breeze came through the opened balcony doors, also carrying with it the sounds of the incessant drums from the Order.

"I… I don't know, Cynthia," Ruthy gave her an apologetic look with her big brown eyes. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it is important, why else would the Mother Confessor be allowing it?"

Cynthia bit her lower lip and inclined her head. They stopped talking and concentrated and fitting her into the gown. As Ruthy helped her into the sleeves, she glanced over at the bed. She had slept in that big bed when she had first came here, and she had found it extremely comfortable. As her eyes wandered, she noticed that the covers were rumpled and appeared to be soaked in places. Cynthia caught her breath, realizing that no one had yet changed the sheets after the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor had made love, and that the dark wet stains on the blankets were a result of the passionate lovemaking that had kept half the palace staff up for more than quarter of the night.

"There, perfect!" Ruthy exclaimed when she was finished.

Cynthia was not surprised by Ruthy's declaration. She was the exact size, minus the baby bump, as the Mother Confessor. So, of course, the dress fit perfectly. Though, she was thankful that she did not have to wear the corset. Cynthia had never liked wearing one. As just a simple farm girl from the Tanimura countryside, Cynthia had never had to wear one in her entire life until Sister Bree started dressing her up like the Mother Confessor.

Cara turned around and eyed her. "You're the spitting image of Kahlan," she stepped over and grabbed her arm. "Now let's go. The Lord Rahl is waiting!"

XXX

Kahlan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stifle down the nausea she felt at the sight before her. Cara had just arrived with the girl… Cynthia. They had let down her hair and changed her into one of her spare white gowns, and she did, indeed, look very much like her. However, Kahlan thought Cynthia lacked her bearing and presence. She just did not stand like a Mother Confessor. Granted, Kahlan, herself, was not standing at present, but that could be rectified.

"Richard?" she held up her hand, asking with her eyes for assistance.

He jumped at her plea, and took her hand, helping her to stand. She grunted a bit, and placed her other hand on her enlarged belly. She could have sworn she had gained ten pounds in a matter of minutes. Gripping his hand firmly, as if to claim him as hers, Kahlan stood on the raised dais and looked down her nose at the duplicate before her. Her eyes skimmed the woman's familiar features, the very same she saw in the mirror when she looked at herself, minus the tiny scar on her upper lip, the one Richard found adorable.

Continuing her inspection, her eyes dropped to the woman's breasts, the gown pushing them together to provide ample cleavage. Kahlan narrowed her eyes.  _Mine are bigger_ , she told herself as she went on. Then she stopped on Cynthia's slender middle and flat stomach. Kahlan subconsciously drummed her fingers along her own swollen belly, internally hating the woman for still having her figure. Then a thought struck her.

"Does he know I'm with child?" Kahlan questioned, turning towards Richard.

Richard knitted his eyebrows together and his brow creased. He turned towards the Mord'Sith. "Cara?"

Cara took a quick breath and narrowed her eyes. "I don't think so," she said slowly. "It's not common knowledge outside the council and staff, and the soldiers, of course. And it is not exactly news we've been spreading."

Richard nodded in understanding, but Kahlan did not understand. The news that the Mother Confessor was expecting should be wide spread news. It would give hope to the people of the Midlands that there was a future… that the line of confessors would be continued.

"You're already a target, Kahlan," Richard spoke up, noticing her confused expression. "I thought it best to keep it a secret…," he took the blame.

"We all agreed on it," Cara said, helping him out. "Zedd, me, and the others. It was necessary, especially from what we've heard the Emperor has planned for you."

Kahlan shuddered, remembering that talk. It had been Cynthia who had given them that information, and though Kahlan was unsure how she felt about the girl, she did believe her about the threats that the Emperor had issued.

"All right," Richard said, taking a deep breath. "Then let's get this over with."

"Um… excuse me, Lord Rahl… Mother Confessor?" Cynthia spoke up, her voice so much like her own that Kahlan involuntarily shuddered.

"Yes, Cynthia?" Richard replied.

Kahlan did not like the familiarity with which he responded to the woman. Biting her lower lip, she chided herself, remembering she had promised to keep her jealous side under control. Richard had proven himself last night, more so than she could have imagined… Spirits, the things he did to her… Kahlan gritted her teeth and held back the accusation her irrational mind wanted to shout out. She silently cursed her raging hormones, blaming her condition for her wild emotions.

"What… what exactly do you want me to do?" Cynthia asked in a meek voice, not looking or sounding at all like how they wanted her to look and sound.

Richard exchanged a look with Kahlan, his eyes asking for permission to inform that duplicate. Kahlan smiled softly, pleased that he cared for her feelings. But, since this was her problem, and not his, Kahlan decided that she should be the one to speak. Holding Richard's hand tightly, Kahlan looked down at Cynthia.

"My father has requested an audience," Kahlan informed her duplicate.

Cynthia stood there, looking stunned for a moment. "And you want me to pretend to be you… what if he can tell the difference?"

Kahlan almost scoffed. Her father had hardly been a father to her. The only time he had showed her any love was when he had been under confession. Though, when she had last seen him, there had been one moment when he seemed to genuinely care about her as his daughter and not as a tool he had used to further his own ends. He had promised to become a sculptor, not because the Mother Confessor asked, but because his daughter had.

"Well, if trouble should arise, I shall be there to assist," Richard answered the woman before Kahlan could respond. She narrowed her eyes and looked at him with disbelief. Why was he being so kind to this woman? She knew Richard liked to see the good in people, but she thought he had grown up and realized that some people could not be saved. Again, Kahlan had to admonish herself, reminding herself that Richard had redeemed the Mord'Sith, a group of women Kahlan, herself, had thought were impossible of redemption, and now some of them were her closest friends.

Cynthia nodded. "Thank you, Ric—Lord Rahl."

Kahlan's mind snapped. Did she almost call him by his name? Her jaw set and she lowered her brow, not caring if her dissatisfaction was evident. Richard's hand on the small of her back pulled her from her brooding and she felt his lips slightly kiss her temple, making her flush with embarrassment and guilt for allowing her irrational side to make her doubt him, especially after he what had done to prove himself.

"Don't worry, Kahlan," he murmured softly. "This will be over before you know it and he'll be gone." He led her away towards one of the side chambers, with Rikka following in their wake.

She inclined her head and leaned against his shoulder. "Be careful, Richard, he's not to be trusted," Kahlan asserted. "When my mother died, he proved why he had been confessed."

"Shh," Richard soothed her, running his hand down her head and kissing her brow. "I won't let anything happen to you, and our child," he added placing a hand on her belly. Kahlan's heart fluttered when she saw the smile that graced his lips as he touched her. He tenderly rubbed his hand up and down the swell. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied and closed her eyes when he kissed her lips, slowly and tenderly, with much affection and love. His hand skimmed down her arm until he held her hand. They stayed like that for a while, softly kissing and holding hands, before Rikka cleared her throat.

Richard backed away and cupped her face in his strong hand. "I won't be long," he promised and gave her another quick kiss before departing, leaving her alone with Rikka.

"Don't worry, Mother Confessor," Rikka assured her. "Cara will be with him."

Kahlan nodded absently and peered through the wooded latticework that separated her from the rest of the council chambers. She was glad she was still able to peer out and watch. Even if she did not want to speak with her father, she was intrigued as to the reason for his sudden appearance in her life.


	28. Origins

Her heart was pounding profoundly beneath her chest as she watched the Lord Rahl lead the Mother Confessor out of the council chambers, his hand strategically placed on the small of her back. She glimpsed them speaking softly, before he leaned down and kissed her, his hand running tenderly down her arm until they were holding hands. When they broke away, he reached up and held her face in his hand, whispered one more thing, then gave her another kiss, before turning and walking around the wooden latticework structure to join Cynthia out on the marble floor of the council chambers.

Coming up to stand by her, Richard heaved in a deep breath and looked over at her, giving her a reassuring smile. He then looked towards Cara. "Bring him," he said firmly. And then added, under his breath, "Let's get this over with."

Cynthia followed him to stand just before the raised dais and the Mother Confessor's chair. She rung her hands together and looked down. She almost jerked when she felt his hand on her chin.

"Raise your head, Cynthia," he said. "You're supposed to be the Mother Confessor. You must appear strong."

"Yes, sorry," Cynthia breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, summoning up her courage. "I… I'm just nervous. What if I cannot fool him?"

"You fooled me," Richard said, raising an eyebrow and giving her an easy smile.

"You had lost your memories," Cynthia averted her eyes. "And… well, I was able to do other things to distract you that I could not very well do with someone I'm trying to convince that I'm his daughter."

Richard gave a nod of his head. "True," he said. "But still, you don't have to worry. He's barely seen Kahlan. From what I've been told, he only saw her for about two days and that was slightly over a year ago." He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Just relax and look angry… he'll be expecting you to be angry. And if need be, I'll handle the speaking. I think he could accept that his daughter may see him, but not speak to him."

Cynthia heaved in a breath and gave a nod, grateful for his reassurance. As she looked up into his eyes she was once again hit with the overwhelming feeling of love and security. She smiled softly and opened her mouth to say something, but then the doors opened and Cara entered with two other Mord'Sith, escorting a man in a dirty green cloak. The man's hood was down, revealing a determined countenance and a head of thick silvery hair. Cynthia did not know how, but she could tell that he was the Mother Confessor's father. It was either something in the way he walked or the way his eyes held that look of command.

They stopped before them, the man's eyes constantly glued on Cynthia. She began to grow nervous, but did her best to hide that fact. She lowered her eyebrows and told herself to imagine he was the man who had killed her beloved Jared. That emotion alone should be enough to convince anyone that she was angry and held hate in her eyes. After an instant, the man looked away and turned his attention to Richard.

"You must be the Seeker… and the Lord Rahl, as well," he spoke in a low and gravely voice that had presence to it. "I am Frederick Amnell, Kahlan's father."

"Yes, I know who you are," Richard spoke in a curt voice. Cynthia knew Richard well enough that she could tell he was forcing himself to remain polite. She noticed that his fingers were tightly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. "What do you want?"

"Does a father need a reason to visit is daughter?" he laughed lightly, looking over at Cynthia. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and then he turned back to Richard.

"I heard that you married my daughter, Seeker," he said. "Did she confess you, like her mother confessed me?"

"No," Richard said. "She did not need to confess me to have my love."

Frederick gave a brief nod and clasped his hands in front of him. "Then I'm happy for you… both of you," he looked back at Cynthia. "So… where's my daughter?"

"What?" Richard stepped forward, standing in a protective stance in front of Cynthia.

"My daughter," Frederick repeated, an amused smile forming on his lips. "Where is she?"

"Are you blind? She's right here," Richard said in a tight voice, gesturing towards Cynthia.

Frederick raised a hand and pointed at Cynthia. "Do you think I cannot recognize my own daughter?" he asked. "This woman… she may look exactly like her, but she is not my Kahlan."

"Kahlan is not yours!" Richard spoke through gritted teeth. "The moment you tied her up and forced her to use her powers to further your own ends, you forfeited that right!"

Cynthia was blown away by the anger in Richard's voice. She did not know what had transpired in the Mother Confessor's childhood, but hearing what she was hearing now, she wondered if she ever truly wanted to find out. Though, Cynthia highly doubted it could be any worse than what she had been through at the hands of the Order and all those men seeking to pleasure themselves with the use of her body.

"You were not there, Seeker!" Frederick snapped back. "You have no idea what if feels like to wake up and realize that your entire life had been stolen from you. I never wanted to be a soldier, but my father had other plans for me. I had been saving up my earnings to break free of his control so that I could marry the woman I love. But Kahlan's mother took that away from me the moment she confessed me and made me her mate."

He paused and took a breath; his eyes flirted over to Cynthia for a moment, until returning to Richard.

"I never asked to become a father," he continued. "I was not given a voice in the decision. So, yes, she may not be my daughter by choice, but that does not change the fact that by blood, she is." Frederick narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "You may not believe this, Seeker, seeing how you are immune to her confessor's touch, but I was afraid of her and Dennee. You have no idea what it feels like to know with the slightest touch that your own daughters could destroy who you are. So yes, I reacted out of fear and hatred… it doesn't excuse what I did, but seeing how you've never been in my situation, I don't think you have the right to judge me!"

Richard's nostrils flared and he made a move forward, looking intent on dealing out some justice of his own. Cynthia reached over and touched his shoulder, stilling him. Frederick looked back at her and his eyes dropped to her stomach. Cynthia held her breath and watched as he turned back to Richard.

"My daughter is five months with child," he said. "And this woman obviously is not."

Suddenly there was a commotion from behind them and the Mother Confessor emerged from behind the wooden latticework. "I should have known better than try and fool you,  _father_ ," she said the last bit with an undercurrent of anger.

"Kahlan," he nodded. "So good to see you again. I'm surprised by your reaction… especially with how we parted on such a good terms. I thought we had mended some bridges."

"So did I," Kahlan shot back, now standing next to Cynthia. "Obviously, you have more work ahead of you in recovering whatever honor you ever had."

Cynthia expected Frederick to make a retort, but he did not. His face changed into a stunned expression and he stared at them, his mouth agape.

"What? Speechless now that you're confronted with the genuine article?" Kahlan snapped, shifting uncomfortably under his stare.

Richard stepped in-between Cynthia and Kahlan, reaching for his wife's hand. Cynthia stepped back and let them seize control of the conversation, as she took up place behind the Mother Confessor. She had tended to the Mother Confessor as one of her handmaidens, so she knew how and where to stand, and it was easy to fall back into the role.

"Well?" Richard questioned. "Answer her. I think she deserves one."

Frederick blinked and closed his mouth, his eyes shifting between Kahlan and Cynthia. "What magic have you used to make her look like my daughter?" he asked.

"Magic?" Kahlan wrinkled her nose, momentarily confused. "No magic. She was born like that, _father_."

"What is her name?" he asked.

"Her name?" scoffed Kahlan. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer me, my little star," he said, trying to calm her.

Cynthia noticed Kahlan fluster. "How dare you use that name!"

"Why? It was my pet name for you when you were little, Kahlan," he said. "Not everything I did was so awful."

"What you did while confessed does not count!" Kahlan shouted back. Cynthia observed Richard inch closer to her and place his arm protectively around her shoulder. The Mother Confessor leaned into him, but held her anger. "I never want to hear you use that name ever again!"

"Fine," Frederick lowered his brow. "If you answer my question, I might be able to shed some light on why this woman looks so much like you."

The Mother Confessor faltered for a bit. Cynthia's own heart was pounding like mad. If this man truly had information to explain why she looked so much like Kahlan Amnell, then she would willingly tell him her name to find it out. Richard hugged Kahlan closer as the two exchanged a look. He looked over his shoulder at Cynthia, and then turned back to Frederick.

"Cynthia," Richard said softly at first. "Her name is Cynthia."

"Cynthia," Frederick drawled the name out in a long breath. His eyes went wide and he stared past Kahlan at her. Cynthia felt uncomfortable with how he was looking at her. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Tell me, Cynthia, where did you grow up?"

She looked over at the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor, unsure if she should answer the man. The two had a quick conversation with their eyes, before Richard turned to Cynthia and nodded.

"In the Tanimura countryside," she answered. "My parents were farmers. We supplied the Sisters of the Light at the Palace of the Prophets with wheat for their bread."

Frederick nodded, as if this was not news to him. "And your mother, was her name Anja?"

Cynthia could not hide the shock on her face. "How do you know my mother's name?" she asked, stepping forward, ignoring everyone else.

Kahlan's father swallowed and took a quick breath. He looked to the Mother Confessor for a second and then turned back at Cynthia.

"I knew her," he said. "She was a Sister of the Light."

"No, you're mistaken," Cynthia said shaking her head. "My mother was no sorceress. She and father had me later in life, yes, but nothing else about them was out of the ordinary."

"They were not your parents," Frederick said, turning to look at the Mother Confessor. "Kahlan, listen to me, I know you can never forgive me for how I treated you and Dennee after your mother died, but you must believe me now."

Kahlan clutched onto Richard and gave a slight nod, seemingly willing to give him a chance to explain things. Frederick gave a nod of gratitude and looked over at the Mord'Sith, before continuing.

"You're birth was especially difficult on your mother," Frederick told Kahlan. "I was besides myself with worry and grief the whole time—now I know it was because I was confessed. That being said, when you finally came… you did not come alone." He turned and looked at Cynthia.

"What are you saying, father?" Kahlan asked, her voice a little higher than usual, both her and the Lord Rahl had turned to look at Cynthia, who felt very much like she had a spotlight on her.

"A rare thing happened during the pregnancy," Frederick explained. "According to the attending wizard, Katharine—" Cynthia noticed Kahlan scowl at her father's use of her mother's name "—was exposed to something, he could not say what, but its resulting effect was to duplicate the child growing in her womb. You see, Cynthia does not just look like you, Kahlan, she is your twin sister."

"My… my twin sister?" Kahlan stammered out.

Frederick nodded. Kahlan's eyes grew wide and she stared at Cynthia. "I… I don't understand?" Cynthia spoke up, furrowing her brow, utterly confused. "I have never seen a confessor or even heard of one until almost a year ago. And from what I've learned about them… I could not be one. Jared… my… my sweet Jared… he would have been confessed long before we even consummated our marriage." She suddenly blushed, embarrassed to have just told everyone in the room an intimate detail about her life.

"I don't know how it happened," Frederick said. "I am no wizard, and I do not presume to understand how your powers work, but nonetheless it did. And from what the wizard said, the split that made you into two individuals happened in such away that it also separated the invested magic of confession, giving it to one and not the other. Though," he turned to Cynthia, "since you still grew and developed in a confessor's womb, you are immune to the powers of confession."

"This is all very interesting," Richard butted in, holding the shell-shocked Mother Confessor close. "But do you have any proof of what you're saying? For all we know you could be making this up."

"I have proof," Frederick asserted. He reached inside his cloak and produced a yellowed parchment that had been folded and sealed with red wax. He handed it to Richard, who looked down at it.

"It's addressed to you, Kahlan," he said.

Cynthia inched closer, intrigued to see this proof. The Mother Confessor took it in shaking hands and examined the writing and wax seal. "This is my mother's handwriting," Kahlan confirmed. "The seal is that of the Mother Confessor." With trembling hands she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the contents for a moment before she began to read it aloud in a wavering voice:

 _My dearest Kahlan,_

 _If you are reading this, then I have died before you came of age. There is a dark secret that I have kept from you and Dennee. A secret that I feel compelled to commit to writing._

 _Kahlan, my precious Kahlan… you have a twin sister._

 _You were so alike in almost everyway, except for the very reason that we confessors give birth. She was not blest with the powers of confession. The wizards do not understand it, and to be honest, neither do I._

 _I wanted to keep her, but the Mother Confessor ordered me to give her up. It was a terrible and dark time for me, and I wrestled over the decision for a long time. Eventually, I had to relent to the Mother Confessor, so I called upon the Sisters of the Light, whom have been kind to me over the years._

 _A Sister Anja came and gave an oath to look after and raise her as if she were her own. I have not seen your sister since that day. And it is a decision I deeply regret. Please don't think less of me, my precious Kahlan. As I named you after your grandmother, I have named your twin sister after my own grandmother, Cynthia. And Sister Anja has promised to honor my choice and raise her with that name. It brought me some comfort, knowing that she still had something of me with her._

 _It is my wish, and solemn hope, that when you read this letter, that you do all in your power to find your sister and bring her home. Let her know that her mother loved her and always regretted giving her away. And please, Kahlan, my sweet Kahlan, be as good a sister to her as you have been to Dennee. My sweet little Cynthia, who I can still remember tugging on my hair as I held her for the first time, did not deserve what fate has put on her._

 _Out of everything I have done in my life, giving her up was the most difficult and most painful. All I can do is pray that one day both you and your sister can forgive me for my weakness, when I should have been strong and disobeyed the orders I was given._

 _With all my love,_

 _Katharine Amnell_

Kahlan finished the letter, tears in her eyes. Cynthia, who had slowly drifted over to read over the Mother Confessor's shoulder, was near tears herself. Kahlan noticed her closeness and tilted her head to look at her.

"Can… can it be true?" Cynthia asked, her voice trembling.

"It is mother's handwriting and I'd recognize her style anywhere…," Kahlan suddenly turned and glared at Frederick. "Why didn't you tell me!"

"Kahlan?" he knitted his eyebrows together, seemingly confused.

"Last year!" Kahlan snapped, annoyed, clutching on to Richard as she continued glaring at Frederick, letting go of the letter. Cynthia caught it in her hands and read over the words herself, listening to the others speak in the background. "When I freed you from prison… why did you not tell me that I had a twin sister?"

The man gulped and averted his gaze for the first time. "I was still somewhat bitter," he said. "But then you were kinder to me than I had expected, and even gave me the box of jewelry, where the letter was. When I found it, I remembered… confessed memories are not like real ones, Kahlan. They can sometimes be fogged and cloudy. But when I saw your mother's note, I remembered Cynthia and what had happened. So I came as fast as I could, knowing that my daughter, the Mother Confessor, would want to know that she had a sister, especially after you had lost Dennee to the plague."

Kahlan huffed. "Just words! That's all you have! Words!"

Looking up from the letter, Cynthia scrunched up her brow. She did not know what to think. She had just discovered that her entire life had been a lie. Her mother and father… they weren't even her real parents. Sure they had raised her, but had they loved her? What would her life had been like if she had not been given up? She knew she would not have become a confessor, but she would have had her family… her sister... no… her sisters! The Mother Confessor had had a younger sister named Dennee.  _No…_  Cynthia shook her head.  _I… I had a younger sister. A sister that I will never know because she is dead!_

Tears started to pour from her eyes as she collapsed on the floor. She clutched her middle and sobbed for the life that had been robbed from her all because fate had decided to split her and Kahlan apart, giving the latter all the benefits, while she had been neglected to the role of a dud, a failed offspring of a confessor.

XXX

Kahlan was infuriated. She could not believe this. Everything she had thought had been wrong. She knew that she was venting at her father, yelling and shouting at him, because she felt guilty over how she had treated Cynthia. Spirits, how could she have been so blind. It should have been obvious that there was more to the connection between them beside the fact they looked the same. Suddenly, she heard sobbing. She turned away from her father and looked down to see Cynthia collapsed on the floor, crying.

 _I have a sister_ , Kahlan thought.  _I have a twin sister!_  For the first time since Dennee had died, Kahlan's heart began to mend. She now had the opportunity to repair the mistake her mother had made.  _I have a twin sister!_

Richard sensed what she wanted to do, which Kahlan was grateful for, because without his assistance, she would have had difficulty. With his hand for support, Kahlan knelt down beside the trembling frame of her sister— _her sister!_ —and wrapped her arms around her. Cynthia jerked and looked up, sniffling.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kahlan murmured, feeling awful for how she had treated Cynthia. If only she had known the truth! Her heart was torn between so many emotions: Guilt, anger, betrayal, joy, love, and elation. They were all there, fighting for dominance.

Kahlan did not know what to feel, and it appeared neither did Cynthia. Together, as true twins, they wept and gently rocked back and forth on the marble floor, simply comforting one another.

"I… I should have suspected this," Kahlan choked out.

"It… it is not your fault," Cynthia replied through her sobs. "I am nothing compared to you."

"No," Kahlan shook her head, her hands reaching up to clutch Cynthia's face and hold it up. "Listen to me… I lost one sister, not once but twice. And I am not going to lose another. Especially one that is my twin!  _My twin_!" She repeated it, still stunned by the revelation. Slowly, holding each other, Kahlan and Cynthia stood, Richard helping with Kahlan. They turned and looked down at their father.

"I suppose you'll want a room," Kahlan forced out.

"I was a soldier, Kahlan," he said. "Though, it was not what I wanted, I was one. I am willing to serve and do what I can, to… to redeem myself for my sins. After all, I have two daughters and a grandchild on the way. And I want to be a good father and grandfather, if you'll let me."

Kahlan bit her lower lip and looked over at Cynthia, who was still in a state of shock. She was shocked, as well, but she had been trained by confessors to suppress her feelings, so it was easier for her to cope, though she knew afterwards she was going to need time to release those suppressed feelings. Despite her better judgment, Kahlan told Cara to find her father a room and to tell Captain Meiffert to find some work for him to do. Frederick bowed and departed with the Mord'Sith.

"Kahlan, are you all right?" Richard asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Turning towards her husband, Kahlan grabbed at his shirt and pulled him into a three-way hug between her, him, and Cynthia. Richard leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Richard," Kahlan murmured softly.

"For what?" he questioned.

"For showing my…  _my sister_  true kindness when I did not," she answered. Then turning her head to Cynthia. "Can… can you forgive me for treating you so poorly?"

Cynthia sniffled and blinked her eyes. "I never blamed you for treating me as you did, Mother Conf—"

Kahlan stopped her. "No, not Mother Confessor," she smiled lightly. "You… you're my sister. And I want you to call me by my name."

"Yes, Moth—Kahlan," Cynthia nodded, and paused, catching her breath. "Do not blame yourself. You had no way of knowing. Neither of us did. I… I…," a smile touched her lips. "I have never had a sister before."

"Or a brother," Richard smirked. "Well, brother-in-law."

Kahlan smiled. "Family is important to me, Cynthia. And I want to make things up to you. Not just for me, but for our mother. I… I want to tell you about her… and about our sister, Dennee."

"I… I'd like that," Cynthia choked out. "I'd like that a lot."


	29. Bombardment

The drums stopped as soon as night fell. And when they stopped, the world seemed almost too quiet. To be honest, everyone had gotten used to the incessant drumming, so that when it stopped, it was almost missed. Richard stood on the balcony, gazing out at the sparkling lights from all the lit flames out there. The conversation he had had wanted to have with Kahlan that day had been superseded by the arrival of her father and the revelation that had been uncovered about Cynthia. He was still a little stunned by it—Kahlan's twin sister!

However, if he was honest with himself, he should not have been that surprised. He had quite literally felt both women and knew how similar they were. Now, he felt strange, having done what he had done with Cynthia in the woods, now knowing that she was Kahlan's sister. He felt like he had crossed some terrible boundary that was unforgivable, even though neither knew it at the time. And despite the fact that he had not gone as far as him entering her, Richard still felt like he had betrayed Kahlan's trust somehow. It did not matter that all these problems had already been resolved and dealt with, the feelings were still there, and Richard would not let them go away.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, and allowed his shoulders to relax when he saw Kahlan glide out through the silk curtains. She was dressed in an elegant white robe and her hair was still damp from her bath. She had a faint smile on her lips and there was a glow about her.

"You're in a good mood," Richard commented, turning back to look out at the horizon and all the flickering lights denoting the position of the Imperial Order.

"Well, I just spent the afternoon with my  _sister_!" Kahlan's voice was notably higher, and he detected just the hint of a delightful squeal.

He smiled. "You like saying that, don't you?" he asked, as she came up to stand beside him, slowly snaking her arm around his until their hands were locked together.

"I never knew how much I missed having a sister until Dennee died," Kahlan replied softly, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. "And I really do like Cynthia. I can see some of myself in her, from before I was trained to be a confessor. And even though she wasn't raised with me and Dennee, there is also still a little of my mother—I mean,  _our_  mother—in her."

"So is that what you've been doing for the entire afternoon… talking?" he asked, quietly relishing the feel of her body next to his.

"Yes," Kahlan nodded. "Not just about mother and Dennee, but also about the people who raised Cynthia in Tanimura, and her husband, Jared. It's weird to think about that sometimes, having someone you who looks exactly like you, but isn't, having a relationship with someone else."

Richard nodded. "I personally have trouble thinking of it," he commented offhandedly, not really thinking about it.

"Huh?" Kahlan backed up a bit and looked up at him, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh," Richard raised his eyebrows, realizing that he had spoken his comment out loud. "I… I just mean that you two look so much a like, it is hard for me to picture Cynthia with anyone… romantically, because my mind keeps saying that it's you and not her…" he trailed off and looked down at her with big eyes. "Am I making any sense?"

"I understand… I think," Kahlan reassured him, giving his hand a squeeze and leaning her head back against his side. "But you'll have to learn to control yourself," she continued. "Because I assured Cynthia that if she ever wanted to move on and find happiness again that we would support her."

"Well, then any potential suitor will have to face her overprotective brother-in-law," Richard said in a firm voice.

Kahlan hugged him and giggled softly. "Not to mention an overprotective sister, who—once we've repaired the damage caused by the Chimes—will be able to destroy their souls if they hurt her sister!"

Richard laughed and turned to face her, bringing his free hand up to touch her face and caress her cheek. He stared down into her sparkling blue eyes. "You don't need your powers to claim men's hearts, Kahlan," he told her. "You never needed them to claim mine."

"Yes," she nodded slightly. "But that was the intention… I don't offer myself to just any man, Richard Rahl. He had to be brave, noble, and honorable."

"And love you with absolute devotion so that you're powers could not claim him," Richard finished before capturing her lips. He felt Kahlan ease into him and her hand let go of his to grab at his hair to pull him closer. Her lips gave away and their tongues met in a pitched battle, which she won so easily.

There was a sudden boom, and at first Richard thought it was just the fire of their passion igniting, but then it happened again. Parting from their kiss, Richard looked out at the city below, watching in horror as great big spheres of fire came soaring through the night air to collide with buildings or crash down in the streets and squares.

"The bombardment as begun," Richard stated matter-of-factly, as if he had been expecting it.

Kahlan inched closer to him, her arms wrapping around his middle so she could cling to him. "How long do you think it will last?"

"I suspect all night," Richard said, shifting to put one of his arms around Kahlan's slightly trembling body. "They'll stop at dawn, then proceed again at dusk."

"Why?" Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together.

"It's a tactic to deprive us of sleep," he explained. "It forces us to concentrate on the debris and fires started by the bombardment during the night, taking away the time when we would rest." He took in a deep breath and though that now might be the time to tell her the decision he had made while she had been with Cynthia.

"Kahlan?" Richard began cautiously.

She seemed to sense his change in tone, because she tensed up and looked at him with hard determined eyes. "No," she murmured softly as he continued.

"You're not safe here," Richard ignored her protest. "We need to get you out of here and to somewhere that you and the baby," he placed his hand on her growing stomach for emphasis, "can be protected."

"But I'm safe with you, Richard!" Kahlan objected. "You'll protect me!"

"I cannot lead an army and worry about you at the same time," Richard said, holding back any anger he might have at her objecting to his decision.

"What! You think I'm some sort of burden, is that it?" Kahlan snapped, backing away slightly. "That I'm too heavy with child to take care of myself? Spirits, I'm still the Mother Confessor, and last time I checked, I'm the ruler of Aydindril, not you!"

Richard narrowed his eyes, but kept his voice calm. "Kahlan, you have to understand that this is different from when we were fighting to defeat Darken Rahl and from our quest for the Stone of Tears," his voice was close to pleading. "You're caring for two, yourself and our baby. And I cannot risk the chance of losing either of you."

Kahlan stammered and blinked, looking up at him with watery eyes. "But... but… we've just finally reconciled," she groaned. "And just as you cannot live without me, I cannot live without you, Richard. You are my world. Without you, life would be meaningless. You've given me a gift that no confessor, save the first, has ever had. Love. Pure and real love, not the love of the confessed, forced to love, but the free love of a man who has willingly devoted himself to me with all his heart so that my powers could not touch him."

He faltered a bit at her words. Richard had never been so moved by anything in all his life, well that he could remember, anyways. The way her voice carried when she spoke was like a song; it brought tears to his eyes with how beautiful it was. Slowly, he laced his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could without pressing too much of himself against her baby bump. Brushing her hair away from her face, allowing everything else in the world to fade away, Richard leaned down and kissed her with all the love and desire he had for her.

"I love you, too, Kahlan," he murmured into her mouth as he hugged her, smelling her scent, relishing in the sheer aura that was his Kahlan. "But," Richard backed away, caressing her cheek. "You still have to go. Without your powers…"

Kahlan bit her lower lip and looked away. He knew she was trying to be strong, and did not want him to see the tears that were forming. "I… I know," she forced out. "I just don't like it."

"You don't have to like it," Richard soothed her, continuing to caress the side of her face. "Spirits, I don't like it. But you have to."

She looked back up at him and nodded. "Then I'll go."

Richard reached down and gripped her hand in his, pulling it up to press a soft kiss against the back of her hand. "You are the bravest and strongest woman I have ever known, Kahlan," he told her, and then bent down on his knees so that he was staring at her ever-growing middle. He put his hands on the swell of her belly and looked up at her. "Our child is lucky to have a mother like you."

"And she's lucky to have a father like you," Kahlan replied, resting her hands over his as he affectionately ran circles over her stomach.

Gripping her hands, Richard stood and kissed her, closing his eyes and taking in all the sensations and feelings that came with kissing the woman he loved, his wife, and the mother of his unborn child. Backing out of the kiss, they were reminded of the destruction that was raining down on the city below as a great fiery inferno impacted with a tall building to the left of the Confessor's Palace.

"Tomorrow," she promised.

"Tomorrow," he nodded.

XXX

Back inside, Kahlan laid restlessly in the bed. Richard had tucked her in after making slow and tender love to her, and had held her in his arms before she drifted off to sleep. But the moment he had left, to help the soldiers out in the city streets, she had woke up. After the love he had shown her, it was difficult not to sleep with him by her side. She had spent far too long denying him, that to now not have him when she needed him the most was almost unbearable.

Huffing, she pushed the covers off, and rolled out of the bed, letting out a soft groan as she heaved herself up from the edge of the mattress. Groping for her robe, she found it and pulled it over her shoulders and then waddled over to the door. She grabbed the latch and opened it.

"Mother Confessor?" came Rikka's worried voice.

"Rikka," Kahlan nodded, continuing passed the threshold and down the hallway.

The worried Mord'Sith quickly took up a position behind her. She was silent for a couple steps, but then could not contain her question. "Where are you going?" she asked, the concern and anxiety in her voice evident.

Kahlan smiled softly, remembering how not too long ago no Mord'Sith would have been worried about the whereabouts of the Mother Confessor. She stopped and looked over her shoulder, ushering with her arm for Rikka to walk beside her. The Mord'Sith inclined her head and offered an arm, giving Kahlan some support as she continued on.

"Mother Confessor?" Rikka inquired after a few more minutes of silence.

"I could not sleep," Kahlan answered.

"Wouldn't be better for you to remain in your chambers?" Rikka questioned.

Kahlan shrugged. "I don't think anywhere is particularly safe from the burning projectiles that are being catapulted across our walls."

"The Confessor's Palace is out of range," Rikka informed her.

"For now," Kahlan answered, squinting in the dim light. Finding the door she was looking for, she waddled over and knocked on it.

A few seconds passed before the door opened and she was met with the startled face of Cynthia.

"Mother Con—Kahlan?" her brow furrowed much like Kahlan's did when she was confused.

"May I come in?" Kahlan asked.

"Of course," Cynthia stepped aside, allowing her entry. Kahlan shuffled through the door and smiled when she saw Rikka take up a position outside before Cynthia closed the door. "Is everything all right?"

Kahlan turned and looked at her sister. Cynthia was dressed in a thin nightgown that displayed her figure. She could not help but feel that she must have looked very much the same before she had grown with child. No doubt, Cynthia was thinking that same thing about Kahlan, except in reverse, about what she would look like should she ever become with child. The thought suddenly struck her at how amusing it all was. And without really intending it, she began to laugh.

Cynthia frowned. "What's so funny?" she looked around. "Is my hair sticking up?"

"No… no, you look lovely, Cynthia," Kahlan assured her sister in-between giggles. "I… I was just thinking how funny it was that we look so much alike."

Cynthia wrinkled her nose. "I don't see how it's so funny?" she said. "To be honest, I'd rather not look like someone else… No offense, Moth—Kahlan."

"Cynthia, when will you learn to call me Kahlan? I'm your sister, after all," Kahlan said, stepping closer to put a hand on her shoulder.

"It is still new…," she admitted, inclining her head. "It will take some time," she paused for a bit and raised her eyebrows, forcing out the next part, "sister."

Kahlan sighed and hugged her. "Take all the time you need, the truth is not going anywhere now that it has been let out into the open," she reassured Cynthia.

Cynthia nodded, and made to offer Kahlan a seat, but then seemed to remember how small and spartan her room was. Kahlan looked towards the bed and smiled, remembering how when Dennee and her were young they would snuggle up in a bed together to keep each other company on cold nights.

"I… I couldn't sleep with Richard out helping the men," Kahlan said. After a moments pause, she relayed to Cynthia the tale of her and Dennee sharing a bed when one of them had been frightened during the night.

Her twin took the cue, and smiled slightly, the expression brightening up her pale face. "We could go back to your chambers—"

Kahlan shook her head. "I can't be there when Richard is not, his smell lingers and I'd only be reminded of his absence," she informed Cynthia.

Nodding, Cynthia then gestured to her meager bed. "It's not as grand as your big bed, sister, but it is surprisingly comfortable."

Kahlan smiled, thrilled about reliving an experience from her youth, except this time getting to do it for the first time with her twin. She had no doubt that if Cynthia had not been taken away, they would have spent many a nights as girls laying in the same bed whispering long into the night.

Helping her into the bed, Cynthia crawled in after Kahlan, shifting the coverlet to cover them both. "Are you comfortable, Kahlan?" she asked, for the first time not having to correct herself.

"Very much," Kahlan sighed in contentment as she felt the warmth of her sister's body next to hers.

Kahlan turned onto her side and wrapped her arms around Cynthia, who jerked a bit, startled by the physical contact. When she realized that Kahlan only wanted to snuggle, she relaxed and obliged her. They rested their heads on the same pillow and looked into each other's faces, seeing a mirror of the other.

"You're very beautiful, do you know that, Cynthia?" Kahlan asked.

Cynthia batted her eyelashes and averted her gaze, blushing slightly. "Many men have told me that, yes," she replied.

"I'm talking about your inner beauty,  _sister_ ," Kahlan giggled, both at Cynthia's misunderstanding, and at how easily she had accepted her twin. Kahlan did not usually get close to people this quickly, except for Richard. With him there had been a spark from the moment their eyes had first met that she carried with her always. And since the revelation of Cynthia being her sister was made, Kahlan just knew it was true and could not help but want to have a close bond. As she had told Cynthia earlier in the day, family was important to her… except for when it came to her father. He was the only exception to that rule.

"Jared was the only one I truly believed could see my inner beauty," Cynthia replied. "That was one of the reasons I married him when he proposed. That… and he wasn't constantly trying to get under my skirts." Cynthia giggled slightly as she looked back at Kahlan and blushed fiercely. "What about Richard? When did you know he was  _the one_?"

It was Kahlan's turn to blush. "I think it started from the moment I met him," she admitted. "I was being hunted by a quad of D'Harans, sent by Darken Rahl to kill me and take possession of the Book of Counted Shadows. I was on a mission to find the First Wizard—"

"Zedd?"

"Yes, Zedd," Kahlan confirmed with a nod. "Well, I had just crossed the boundary and had entered Westland, when the quad cornered me on a cliff. Then out of nowhere, Richard came flying out, knocking down one of the D'Harans. A scuffle ensued, in which I was able to grab one of their throats and confess him. At the time, Richard had no idea who or what I was. Westland had been cut off from the rest of the three territories by the boundary, so no one there had ever heard, much less seen, a confessor.

"Needless to say, Richard did not understand what had happened," Kahlan continued, silently thrilled about being able to tell this tale. "The fight was quick and I found him offering a hand to help me up. I… I pulled my knife on him, not used to men touching me. Then our eyes locked, and I think it was at that moment that I knew he was different from every other man I had ever met. It was not until later that night that I discovered that he was the one true Seeker of Truth. The first in over a thousand years."

"Do you think it was love at first sight?" Cynthia asked.

Kahlan nodded with a smile. "Yes, I do. And I think Richard thinks so as well. He's told me as such before…" her voice trailed off.

"Before he lost his memories?" Cynthia finished.

Kahlan inclined her head and averted her eyes. Cynthia snuggled closer and mimicked how Kahlan had wrapped her arms around her. Then Kahlan heard Cynthia start to cry softly. Shifting, she brought her head up and wiped away the tears. "Why are you crying?" Kahlan asked, concerned.

"It… it's just nice having a sister," Cynthia replied, sniffling. "I've been without family for what seems like ages… I thought I was all alone."

Kahlan hugged Cynthia closer. "Well, you're not. Not anymore," she smiled and took Cynthia's hand in hers and placed it over the swell of her belly. "And soon you'll have a niece."

Cynthia blinked and her tears stopped as she let out a soft laugh, smiling slightly. "I think I'll like being an aunt."

With that, the twins snuggled closer and closed their eyes, each able to drift off to sleep, knowing that they had each other for comfort.

XXX

Richard looked over the soldier Captain Meiffert had selected for the task. He was a head taller than Richard and had sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was strong and had wide shoulders.

"Thomas, was it?" Richard asked.

"People call me Tom, Lord Rahl," he bowed his head.

"All right, Tom it is," Richard said with a nod. "Captain Meiffert informs me that you are one of his best men. Do you feel up to the challenge?"

"If you're asking can I escort the Wizard Rahl and his companions safely to D'Hara… then the answer is yes, Lord Rahl," Tom answered with a nod, still standing at attention.

Taking in a deep breath, Richard turned to Nathan. "Well, what do you think?"

The old man cracked a grin. "He'll do!" he said with a chuckle.

A blast from the south interrupted them for a moment. Richard narrowed his eyes and snorted, already displeased with the evening. He had wanted to spend more time with Kahlan, making love to her, knowing that in the morning he was going to have to send her away for her own safety. The sounds of the impacts and crashes were nerve-racking and had disrupted the lovemaking he had managed, but still, he could tell he had pleased Kahlan, and that was all that mattered. When she had fallen asleep after being sated, he had kissed her forehead and slunk away to meet up with Nathan before he left. As the bombardment continued around them, Richard shuddered, not knowing how much more he could take, which was frustrating, considering it was only the first night of the bombardment. Letting out a long breath, Richard turned back to the small group.

"You better get a move on," he said. "Cover as much ground as you can at night."

"Yes, Lord Rahl," Tom said, saluting with a fist to his chest, before turning around to help Verna and Warren finish loading the horses with supplies.

Nathan stepped aside with Richard, placing a hand on his arm. "Have you told her?" he asked.

Richard nodded. "She agreed, though reluctantly. She can be very stubborn."

The old wizard winked and his Rahl eyes sparkled. "That's why we love them, isn't it?" he asked with a slight laugh. "But, in all seriousness, what about her father? What was that all about?"

"You know Cynthia?"

"The woman who looks exactly like the Mother Confessor? Yes," he nodded his head to confirm that he did.

"Turns out she's really Kahlan's twin sister," Richard said. "She was taken away at birth because she was born without confessing powers. Her and Kahlan are exactly the same except one is a confessor and one is—"

"Normal," Nathan finished with a nod. "Well," he looked back over at the others. "I better be off. Is there anything you want me to tell Jennsen?"

"Jennsen?" Richard furrowed his brow, confused.

"Yes, Jennsen, you're sister," Nathan said. "Last I heard she was staying at the People's Palace."

"I… I…," he was dumbfounded.

"Oh, yes," realization dawned in Nathan's blue Rahl eyes. "I forgot… you're memory loss. Talk to your grandfather… or your wife, they'll explain."

Richard took a quick breath, startled by the revelation. "Well, you learn something new everyday, I guess," he said in response. He thought for a while, before placing a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "I feel bad not saying anything, so tell her that I love her and cannot wait until we can be together as a family."

Nathan nodded. "Should I tell her about your memories?" he asked.

Narrowing his eyes, thinking, Richard eventually shook his head. "I don't want her to worry," he said.

"As you wish, Richard," the old wizard clapped him on the back. He turned and accepted the reins of his horse from a stable boy. Huffing as he mounted the horse, he turned in the saddle and looked down at Richard, his Rahl eyes piercing. "Take care, Richard, and I will see you, when I see you."

With those last words, the prophet Nathan Rahl kicked his legs and sent his mount galloping through the back gate of the city of Aydindril, the others following behind. Verna and Warren cast glances back at him, each nodding their farewells, though Verna's eyes looked worried to be leaving. Richard reassured her with a nod and wave of his hand. He stood there, in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the hooves diminish as the horseback figures disappeared in the shadows of the night.

Heaving in breath, Richard closed his eyes and turned, walking back to the command post in the square before the Confessor's Palace. He clenched his jaw and looked up at the magnificent building, knowing that his wife was sleeping within those walls, and that in the morning, he would have to say goodbye to her as well.

At the thought, a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.


	30. Need and Surrender

Kahlan woke early, just as the sun was cresting the horizon, and the first rays of the morning light came filtering through the window. Slowly, blinking her eyes to adjust to the new light, she smiled at how warm and comfortable it was in the bed. Shifting slightly, she noticed that Cynthia was still sleeping soundly, her breath evened and calm. Kahlan's heart was steadier than she would expect, considering that today was the day she would depart from her home, probably never to see it again. She wanted to be optimistic, but it was hard to under the present circumstances.

It was a fact. Aydindril did not stand a chance against the Imperial Order. It would be in rubbles soon. She just thanks the good spirits that they had had the foresight to evacuate the civilians. However, Kahlan felt it was foolish of Richard to even think about staying behind with the men, when he should come with her, especially when she was close to being five months along with child. She—not to mention their unborn child—needed him.

A sudden idea struck her like a bolt of lightning strikes through the night air, quick and fast. Shifting, trying to sit up without disturbing her twin, Kahlan wiggled around, yet could not manage to even push herself up from the mattress. Spirits, she felt like dead weight. Quietly cursing under her breath, she struggled a little more, moving around more than she would have liked, causing Cynthia to stir a bit. Kahlan stopped, hoping not to wake her sister. She wanted Cynthia to get as much rest as possible. She was going to need it. And now that she knew Cynthia was her sister, Kahlan wanted to be the protective older sibling, even though she was only technically the older sister by a minute or so, at least according to what their father had said.

Laying back down on her back, Kahlan let out a frustrated groan, knowing she was most likely not going anywhere. She would have to either wait until Cynthia woke up, or wake her herself. She sighed, at least she did not need to make water… that would have been very troubling, not to mention embarrassing. But what she wanted to do—no,  _needed to do_ —was just as important as having to answer the call of nature. Kahlan had to see Richard. She had to be with him. She had to speak with him. There was no way she was just going to leave without him. If he wanted her to leave Aydindril, then dammit, he was going to come with her!

"Kahlan?" came a voice that sounded exactly like hers, yet was a bit low and heavy from sleep.

Blinking, she turned her head on the pillow and saw big blue eyes gazing up at her. Kahlan smiled and, groaning slightly, shifted onto her side. She reached out and she skimmed her fingers along her mirror image.

"Morning, my sister," Kahlan mumbled.

Cynthia smiled. "I… I like that, having a sister to wake up to," she averted her eyes and Kahlan grinned, seeing her cheeks turn pink.

"I like it, too," Kahlan replied, truly meaning it. It had been a while since she had felt so at peace with herself.

The last year after sealing the rift had been difficult, to say the least. Their return to Aydindril had opened their eyes to a whole new threat, then there had been the plague and that damned prophecy about the red moon, and the price that she was going to have to pay for Richard to heal the land. And if that was not enough, she had to release the Chimes of Death into the world of the living so that Richard could be cured of the magical plague he had taken onto himself so that the rest of the world would not have to suffer its ravages. Yet that was not the worse of it. He had lost his memories, yes, some were slowly returning, but in many ways he was still half-Richard. And now, of all things, he was planning on sending her away.

Yawning, Cynthia sat up and stretched her arms. "You need help getting up?" she asked in a soft voice, making sure that Kahlan knew she did not think less of her if she did.

Kahlan let out a frustrated breath and gave a nod. "Yes, thank you, that would be much appreciated."

Cynthia slipped out of the bed and held out her arms. Kahlan reached up and together they managed to get her to a sitting position. She put her hands on her large belly and let out a sigh, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

"Men owe us women big time for carrying our offspring," she grumbled, half to herself.

"I'll take your word on that, Kahlan," Cynthia said, smiling shyly, as she stepped back to give Kahlan room to roll off the mattress.

Planting her feet on the ground, she heaved up from the edge and swayed a bit, having stood up too quickly. Cynthia knitted her eyebrows together, looking concerned that she was going to need to retch. Kahlan held up her hand, signaling that she was fine. Cynthia turned and tiptoed over to the dresser, making Kahlan frown, wishing she were that light on her feet. She had been, once, but that had been before she had gotten herself heavy with child. Not that she did not mind being with child, especially since it was Richard's child, it was just irritating how things were different.

Coming out of her brooding, Kahlan saw Cynthia returning with a robe. "Here, Kahlan," her sister said putting the robe over her shoulders. "You're nightgown is a bit revealing… and it is kind of cold this morning."

Kahlan nodded and smiled, thanking her. She tugged the edges of the robe tighter around her and waddled over to the door. Behind her, she could hear splashes as Cynthia washed her face with the water in the washbowl. She turned around and looked at her twin, watching as she dried her face off with a towel. Cynthia caught her staring and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, did you want some company?" she asked, smiling slightly, looking eager to be with her.

"If you don't mind," Kahlan replied, not wanting to be a bother.

Cynthia gave a nod. "Just one minute," she said, turning to a small vanity table and picking up a string. Her hands went up into her long tussled hair and she tied it into a loose ponytail. Her eyes sparkled as she stepped over to Kahlan and extended her hand, taking Kahlan's in hers as she opened the door.

Kahlan could not help but smile. Holding Cynthia's hand reminded her of when she and Dennee would hold hands as they walked through the forest. Spirits, they had ceased doing that once they had grown up. But now, Kahlan found it oddly comforting. Cynthia opened the door and Rikka turned around, stepping aside to let them out. The Mord'Sith followed in silence as the twins walked down the halls of the Confessor's Palace. Cynthia never let go of Kahlan's hand, and the Mother Confessor could almost quite literally feel the sisterly bond between them growing with each step. Kahlan could not believe that almost twenty-four hours ago she had hated Cynthia's guts, believing the mirror image was trying to seduce her Richard.

As they passed the portraits of the previous Mother Confessors, Cynthia came to a halt before the one labeled  _Katharine Amnell_. She let out a soft breath and gazed up into that serene face that looked so much like the face her daughters had inherited. "She was beautiful," Cynthia mumbled, staring up, unblinkingly, at their mother's portrait.

"Yes, she was," Kahlan nodded, feeling some sadness over her mother's loss.

Cynthia blinked and turned to look at Kahlan. "We should take it with us," she said.

"Huh?" her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"The painting," Cynthia said, releasing Kahlan's hand to step closer to the portrait, raising a hand to reverently stroke the painted chin of their mother. "It is all I have to know what our mother looked like… we can't let the Order destroy it when they sack the city."

Kahlan swallowed past the lump in her throat. Hearing Cynthia say those words almost seemed prophetic, like it would happen and there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Glancing over at Rikka, Kahlan gave a brief nod, silently asking the Mord'Sith to help. Rikka stepped forward and assisted Cynthia remove the picture from the wall. They maneuvered it between each other before Cynthia got a good grip on it, and then turned to Kahlan, smiling. Kahlan could not help but smile back, seeing the almost child-like enthusiasm in Cynthia's eyes.

Now with the painting of their mother, they proceeded to the Mother Confessor's bedchambers. Rikka walked out in front of them and opened the door. Cynthia went first, squeezing through with the portrait. Kahlan looked up at Rikka, who was shaking her head.

"It's odd, Mother Confessor," she spoke softly, looking at Kahlan with her D'Haran blue eyes. "Seeing you so friendly with her. I mean, I understand, she's your twin sister, but you know…"

Kahlan nodded. "Yes, I thought the same thing myself earlier," she replied, smiling a bit. "We're all going to need some time to get used to things, but I'm not going to allow that to interfere with me getting to know my sister. She… she is family, and I want her safe. She's been through more pain and agony than we truly know. And I can tell that there is much about her time as a prisoner of the Order that she has not told me… perhaps because she does not want to relive it or it is too painful a memory to bear, either way, as her only link to her true family, I feel the need to be protective of her and to nurture her. And to see her smile, especially after what she has been through... is good for me. Having a sister, having my family returned to me, has been better for me than I would have thought. I need her. And I need her safe."

"I understand," Rikka said, inclining her head. "We will protect her like she was you or the Lord Rahl. Plus, being your twin, makes her all the more precious."

Smiling softly, Kahlan thanked the Mord'Sith, and was surprised when Rikka gave her a hug. Brushing back her hair, Kahlan gave Rikka a nod of thanks, and then stepped through the doorway and into her bedchambers.

XXX

Richard stepped out of the bathtub, hearing noises coming from the other room. He smiled, thinking Kahlan must have come back. He, himself, had returned to their bedchambers a little before dawn, hoping for a little snuggle time, maybe even a little squeeze… oh, he was going to miss that once she was gone. But when he had arrived, he found the bed empty and Kahlan gone. For a brief moment he was afraid something had happened, but the panic rising up in his throat eased when the Mord'Sith informed him that the Mother Confessor had gone to sleep with her sister. He had sighed with relief, and smiled a little, pleased that Kahlan was bonding with her twin, because she was going to need someone whilst they were separated.

So, since she was most likely still sleeping, which was good, because she needed it, Richard had decided to take a quick bath, wanting to be cleansed of the dirt and debris that had collected over him as he had helped the men put out fires and move rubble. His muscles were still aching and sore from the hard lifting, and his legs felt like jelly, but he was not going to allow anything to prevent him from spending time with his wife. Richard was hoping that before she left, he and Kahlan could have a little alone time, in which they could become one again, uniting their bodies physically as they were already linked spiritually and emotionally.

He knew that Kahlan did not like the idea of being sent away, even if it was for her own protection and safety, not to mention that of their unborn child, but it was necessary. Yet before he sent her away that morning, he wanted to make love to her one last time, knowing that it might be one of the last times that they could be intimate in a long time.

Tiptoeing across the cold stone floor, Richard reached for a towel and wrapped it around her middle, not wanting to scare her with how aroused he always was. Just thinking of her got him excited and salivating, wanting to feel the spark that ignited the passion between so easily. Holding the towel up by the edge, he pushed the door opened and stepped through into the bedchambers.

"Hey, Kahlan… why don't you bring that cute little backside of yours over—" his voice stopped the moment he gazed up and locked eyes with the woman standing in the middle of the room. "Cynthia?"

The woman's eyes went wide, darting down to see the obvious evidence of his excited state straining against the confines of the towel wrapped around his middle. Cynthia blushed, her face turning the exact same shade of pink as Kahlan's did when she blushed. Richard raised his brow and swallowed, darting his eyes around, finally seeing his beloved stepping through the doorway with a smile plastered on her face, her hands draped over her belly. Her eyes brightened when she saw him, dropping down his chest as she milked in the sight of him still dripping wet from his bath. Her smile grew even wider when she saw the proof of his desire for her.

Richard held his breath, waiting for a tirade about him being so exposed in a room with Cynthia. Kahlan's twin had since averted her eyes and was shuffling back to the door, stopping by Kahlan. Richard watched as the two exchanged a look, smirking. Kahlan gave her sister a quick hug. The twins then looked over at him and giggled, both blushing the same color of pink, before Cynthia departed from the room, with the painting in tow, closing the door behind her.

Richard straightened his shoulders and looked towards Kahlan, ready to explain in case she misunderstood. But before he could open his mouth, Kahlan wiggled out of the robe, letting it collapse to the stone floor around her feet. His eyes grew wide, seeing how revealing her nightgown was. Spirits, her breasts screamed to be touched and suckled. She raised her hands up into the air, and he noticed that they were shaking, but he could not tell if it was from anger or glee.

He narrowed his eyes, afraid she was going into the state of pure rage and focus that she had told him about… what was it called? The Con Dar… the Blood Rage. Yet, when she opened her mouth, it was not a scream of rage that came out, but a high pitch squeal of utter delight and joy. His mouth dropped, utterly perplexed by her reaction, as she almost seemed to scamper across the room, an impressive feat for how heavy with child she was.

Kahlan flung her arms around him, crushing his still wet body in a tight embrace. Her mouth rammed against his, and Richard closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her lips. He let go of the towel around his waist and brought his hands up to grab at her wonderful long hair. Oh, how he loved combing his fingers down its length, feeling the silky smoothness of it. Richard lost himself in her, simply content to devour Kahlan with the same vigor and intensity that it seemed she wanted to devour him.

No longer having his hand to hold it up, the towel dropped to the floor, exposing his straining arousal. His brain succumbed to the will of his desire, surrendering itself, as his lustful need to be with the woman he loved took control, commanding him to move closer to her, to let her know just how much he wanted—nay—needed her. Richard relented almost at once to that need. Careful not to crush her baby bump, he did a little sidestep maneuver, never once separating his lips from hers, and pressed his excitement up against her side. She tilted her head, following his, allowing him the move, her arms dropping away, one hand running down the hard planes of his chest and down past his waist to grab the firmness that was now pressing up against the side of her hip.

"Now,  _Lord Rahl_ ," Kahlan purred into his mouth when they parted to breathe. "What were you going to ask me?"

Richard gasped, left speechless by the intense and passionate kiss she had just given him. He lowered his hands and looped them around her middle and smiled into the side of her face, basking in how she leaned into him, squirming her hips against his hardness.

"Oh spirits, Kahlan," he groaned.

She smirked, pleased with herself, then extracted herself from his arms to shuffle over to the bed. He licked his lips, watching the way her hips swayed, shaking his head slightly, always stunned by how beautiful and perfect she was. Kahlan turned back to him and raised a hand, beckoning him over with a finger.

Not one to object to the Mother Confessor, he obediently stepped over to the bed. Kahlan reached up, placing a hand on his shoulder, running her hand along his smooth skin, before pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed. She watched as she bit her lower lip, her eyes skimming down his torso to lock on his need for her.

"I believe you were asking me to bring my 'cute little backside' over," she murmured out in a low sultry voice that left Richard trembling with awe at how alluring she could be. He gulped and looked up at her, loving how her raven black hair framed her pale features. "So, Richard, what exactly did you need my 'cute little backside' for?"

A mischievous grin worked its way onto his lips as he looked up at her from beneath his eyebrows. Reaching out for one of her hands, he intertwined their fingers slowly, looking up at her with a smoldering need that only she could quench. "Oh, I just thought you'd like to sit in my lap, is all," he said coyly, flashing her a smile before planting a kiss on her palm.

Kahlan chuckled and inclined her head. "You know what, Richard, I might just take you up on that offer," she quipped back, releasing his hand and quickly unlacing her nightgown. Richard lost his breath the moment the silky fabric fell from her shoulders, revealing her in all her glory. She spun around, laughing softly, before backing up into his waiting lap. Richard reached up and grabbed her hips, helping to guide her descent into his lap, angling her just right. He leaned back slightly, letting out a soft moan as he felt the soft flesh of her bottom brush against his abdomen.

Reaching around her supple thighs, his fingers found her folds. Kahlan let out a soft gasp as he touched her, spreading her already wet folds apart to make entry easier. She squirmed her hips, as he adjusted her over him. Letting go for one moment, he reached between them and adjusted himself, lining up his length to meet her opening. "Now," he confirmed in a soft voice.

Kahlan whimpered softly as she eased down onto his lap, his length pushing past her folds and penetrating the very depths of her warmth. Richard gripped her hips slightly, breathing heavily as he began to assist her in swaying back and forth over him. Once they got a rhythm down, and he was sure she was securely placed on his lap, he moved his hands up and cupped her breasts, guiding her to rest her back against his chest. He kissed her shoulder as he softly began to buck his hips up, ever so slightly, while keeping with the sway of her hips.

Arching her neck, she looked back at him, her blue eyes as brilliant as ever. Richard softly squeezed her breasts, and gently teased her nipples as she leaned her back against him, moaning softly. Richard loved the feeling of her sitting in his lap, their thighs touching, while he continued to fondle and push up into her wet warmth, a place he knew he would see very little of in the coming months as she was taken away to be somewhere safe while he stayed and defended their home from the vile taint of the Imperial Order.

Richard was just about to completely lose himself in the pure rapture and bliss that came with connecting with Kahlan, when she stopped her swaying, and simply sat there, his throbbing arousal aching for release. "What… what's wrong? Are you all right?" he asked through panting breaths, concerned that he had hurt her.

Slowly, Kahlan gripped his hand and pushed up. He could not help but let out a soft groan as he felt his hardness slip out of her. She wiggled a bit, her bottom pressing up against his arousal, until she was finally able to fully stand. He looked up at her, worried. She stood there for a moment, before turning back around.

"No," she mumbled with a shake of her head.

"Kahlan?" Richard was utterly bewildered by her change in behavior. He furrowed his brow, looking up into her eyes.

She shifted and eased down onto the edge of the bed, sitting right beside him. "No," she muttered again, leaning against his shoulder, a soft sob escaping from her lips.

"Oh, Kahlan," Richard turned and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, thinking he new the reason behind this change in her mood. He watched as she swallowed and ever so slightly tilted her head to look up at him.

"I… I don't want to be parted from you, Richard," she said, resting a hand on his chest. "There has been so many times in which we have almost lost the other. The… the idea of losing you is too painful to even contemplate." She closed her eyes and took a slow breath.

Richard, still aching for a release, yet knowing that Kahlan needed comfort not sex, shifted up onto the bed, pulling her with him. He brought them down on the soft mattress, nestling her close to his body. She sobbed softly, not really crying, just making the noises. Her head nuzzled his neck and her hand clutched at his chest, fingers digging into the skin just above his heart.

"Don't send me away," she whimpered softly. "Please, don't send me away."

"Kahlan, we've gone over this… you have to go," Richard whispered. "It's not safe for you, or the baby, to be here, especially with what we know the Order will do to you if they should capture you."

"Then… then come with me," Kahlan breathed out, shifting to crawl over him.

The swell of her belly rested against his abdomen, as she sat up and straddled his hips with her legs. Grabbing his hardness in her hands, Kahlan eased up slightly to insert him into her wet opening. Bringing her hips down on him, Richard let out a soft groan as he felt her capture his entire length. Kahlan planted her hands on his chest as she began to sway her hips gently, in a slow and steady rhythm, pulling and squeezing at him with her inner muscles. He rolled his head back into the pillows and gazed up at her, watching as her long luscious hair cascaded around her glowing face as she moved over him.

He was slightly confused, having thought she just needed some comfort and not this connection. But his mind was not entirely reliable right now, because of the damage to his memories. So, he just went with it. This was a slow and gentle kind of lovemaking, the kind that Richard felt was needed now, so he did nothing to take control, knowing that the need had shifted and was Kahlan's now. It was her need to be comforted and seek him out, so he let her be the one to guide it. He rested his hands on her hips, slowly moving his fingers around to feel the flesh of her bottom. Kahlan, remaining silent, simply needing to feel him, grabbed one of his hands and moved it to her breast, commanding him with her eyes. Richard complied and did what she wanted, cupping her breast and holding it in his hand as she quickened her swaying, using her legs for momentum.

Since she was not bouncy up and down on him, this was more about the friction being created than anything else. He could tell by the way her insides reacted to the intrusion of his hardness that Kahlan was deriving a great amount of pleasure. Not only that, but he could read it on her face, as she closed her eyes and lowered her head, letting out little whimpers and gasps of pleasure. He felt her legs tighten around his middle, and he knew she was approaching release. Wanting to join her, Richard took back some control, grabbing the soft flesh of her bottom to hold her steady as he bucked his hips to match her movements.

Kahlan opened her eyes as the sudden change and looked down at him. He stared up into her brilliant sky blue eyes, gazing upon her soul. She moved one of her hands, seeking out his. She groped around blindly for a while, her eyes too fogged from pleasure to see clearly. Richard helped her out, moving his hand from her breast and grabbing hers, intertwining their fingers. He had to tighten his grip on her hip to keep her steady enough for his upward thrusts, but she was managing just fine. He pulled their locked hands to his chest, holding them just above his heart, staring up at her with utter love and devotion, knowing that was what she needed right now.

Her legs locked around him tensed and he could feel her pulling at him as he bucked up into her. Though his memories of being with her were not completely restored, he knew enough to know that she was about to achieve release. His own release was rising and he knew he just needed a few more well aimed thrusts until he exploded within her. Kahlan quivered above him, her mouth dropping as her eyes closed. A low moan escaped her lips and he felt her tighten around him. Richard tried his best to reach release as well, but the style of their motions had been more beneficial for her, and to be honest, his mind was distracted, worrying about comforting his wife and not focusing on deriving pleasure for himself.

Kahlan shifted off him, and came to rest on her side next to him, laying in a way that provided her with more access to curl up against him. He was still breathing heavy, having been so close to release, but had failed to do so in time to match Kahlan. He was throbbing down there, left wanting, but he remained silent. When he had come to their bedchambers earlier, it had been about his need to satisfy his physical hunger for his Kahlan, but that had changed, and he had allowed it.

"Here," Kahlan whispered softly. "That was unkind of me, let me help you." Her hand ran down his chest and he felt her grip him in her fingers. Cocking his head, he looked down at her head, resting against his shoulder. She gazed back beneath her eyebrows as she stroked him, firming him up to give him a release. Tentatively, she opened her mouth and began to suck on the skin of his shoulder.

Richard shuddered, in awe of the control she exuded over him. Her hand moved faster and her lips continued to tantalize his shoulder. Kahlan pressed closer to him and he felt her breasts press against his side, causing him to groan slightly. His breath came in quick pants, and he turned his eyes to lock with hers.

And then it came, he tensed his stomach muscles and felt a tremor run through out his entire body as he climaxed. His seed shot up a bit into the air and came back down to coat his thighs, pelvis, and stomach—not to mention Kahlan's hand. She continued to massage his member as it softened, and Richard had to let out a breath. It had not been the way he had wanted to release, but it still had been with her.

Kahlan eased up slightly, and brought her hand up. Her dazzling eyes examining the sticky substance on it for a moment, before bringing it up to her lips and tasting it. Richard watched in amazement as she licked her entire hand clean of his seed, already feeling the stirring of arousal all over again at what she was doing. She shifted, scooting down, and he felt her mouth and tongue working over his abdomen and pelvis, licking up all of his seed. Richard arched his neck and watched as she cleaned him with her tongue, her hair tickling his skin as it fell down around her head. She kissed his manhood, then rolled her tongue around it, before taking him into her mouth and stimulating him to attention.

Richard groaned, rolling his head back, completely baffled and confused. He thought he understood Kahlan and her moods, but this morning just seemed to be bizarre and out of character for her. Never in all the times that he could remember making love with her, had she done this. As her tongue worked over him, her fingers played with the sensitive skin of his testicles, causing him to instinctively buck his hips. Kahlan did not stop, but continued, sometimes even taking his whole length into her mouth. It was wet and warm, and it almost reminded him of the other wet warmth that he loved about his Kahlan.

Her other hand came up and brushed away her hair, tucking it behind an ear. Blue eyes that looked like the sky on a cloudless day gazed up at him as he looked down, watching. As she backed away slightly, she ran her tongue over his complete length and smiled at him, shifting slightly so that he felt her breasts press against his right leg as she adjusted herself into another position. She wrapped his length in her hand and began to stroke him and she kissed and sucked his balls.

Still completely paralyzed by shock, Richard relented and surrendered to the pleasure she was giving him. He let out a moan as her mouth descended over him again, her lips closing around him as she moved her head up and down to mimic the thrusts of his hips when he had moved over her. He wanted to do something, to tell her that this was not necessary, but he was at a lost for words, and he could feel his muscles already constrict and tense as another release was building.

Her hand sprawled out across his abdomen, fingers spread wide as she continued to lick and tease him. Richard knew that she could feel his stomach muscles tightening and he was going to tell her that he was about to loose control, but Kahlan seemed too absorbed in what she was doing. Within moments, his whole body was tensing and his toes curled inward as he felt a warmth seep up from between his legs and erupted into her warm throat. Kahlan's lips sealed around his length, keeping his entire release within her mouth. He could feel her swallow twice, then slowly lick off any remnants that had escaped.

"Kahlan?" Richard questioned once he began to breathe normally. "Why?"

She looked up at him with bright eyes. "Because I love you, and I want you to leave with me," was her answer.

"What about Aydindril?"

"It is lost," Kahlan replied, heaving herself up to a seating position, her voice sad yet rational. "We can do nothing more than what we already have. We… we should go to D'Hara and prepare. The People's Palace is more defensible than Aydindril. It was there that we should have made our stand."

Richard sat up and shifted to sit beside her. He wrapped an arm around her trembling frame, still in awe of what she had done. He felt guilty, feeling that it should have been him that brought her to release twice, that he should have laid her down and tasted of her nectar, but she had beaten him to it. He sighed.  _Dammit, she's the one that needed it not me!_

"I did what I wanted," Kahlan spoke up, as if reading his thoughts. She shifted, and placed a hand on the side of his face, smiling softly. "I should have waited for you to release inside me… I'm sorry. I was too wrapped up in myself and was not thinking of you. So… so I wanted to make it up."

"You have nothing to feel sorry for, Kahlan," Richard said. "Spirits, I'm the one who should be sorry. I came here only thinking of my need… my desire. I never once thought of what you wanted or needed. All I wanted was you on my lap, your legs wrapped around me as I filled you with my being."

Kahlan gave a soft laugh, though he thought it looked forced. "I did enjoy sitting on your lap like that. We should do it more often, especially in the bath. You could climb in first, then I can ease down on you and you can guide us… and you know, do that thing with your hand, when you slipped it between my legs, like you did the other night when you reminded me of your love."

Richard let out a breath, knowing she was breaking down any defenses he might have had. She was going to win. Spirits, she always won. He could not say no to her, no matter how hard he tried. "All right," he surrendered, resting his head against hers. "We'll leave together." He leaned forward and kissed her lips tenderly, running his hand down her side to rub a small circle over her swollen belly. "I won't abandon you two. I will always be here for you… for both of you."

Nodding, Kahlan adjusted herself and grabbed his hand, pulling it down past the swell of her belly to the spot between her legs. He looked up at her, smirking, seeing the playful glint in her eye. "So, was I correct in assuming that you wanted to return the favor?" she asked as she laid down, spreading her legs before him.

Richard grinned. "It only seems fair, my Kahlan," he hummed, caressing her thighs as she opened up for him. Smiling, he shifted, positioning himself in the best location to give her the most pleasure possible. And then, not for the first time in this new day, Richard Rahl, the Seeker of Truth and Master of D'Hara, surrendered to the Mother Confessor.


	31. Morning

Kahlan laid peacefully on the bed, wrapped up in the arms of the man she loved. She loved waking up in his arms, feeling his breath on the nape of her neck as he nuzzled against her hair. She smiled, enjoying the moment. Then he moved, and she felt him press a kiss against her pulse point. He hummed into her flesh and began to nibble at her neck.

"Good morning, Kahlan," he murmured into her ear, before playfully nibbling on her earlobe. Kahlan shuddered and moaned softly as his lips returned to devouring her neck.

His hands moved and he touched her in all the right places, stirring up all the desire and need she had for him. He brushed his fingers along her thighs and slid his hand between her legs to touch her in that most sensitive of all areas.

"Spirits, Richard," she let out a breathy gasp when he touched her down there, and, at the same time, also feeling the heat of his arousal brush against her bottom. "I… I thought you wore yourself out last night."

He chuckled softly against her skin. "I can never wear myself out when it comes to you, Kahlan," he whispered into her ear. "I simply can't get enough of you." And then, as if to prove his point, he began kissing and sucking on her neck all over again, causing her heart to flutter and her cheeks to flush.

She felt him grip her thigh and raise her leg, and then he was in her, taking her from behind as he kissed and teased her neck with his lips. Kahlan moaned and arched her head back, wanting to kiss him. He complied and seized her lips with his, kissing her as he continued to make love to her, his hand gripping her hip tightly as he pressed his hip up against her bottom, thrusting himself deep within her. Her spine tingled and came alive with sensations as he took her to a place where everything was just right, where there was no hatred, malice, or evil, but just their love and the passion that burned between them.

Richard moved his hand over her, caressing her breasts, while his other arms held her tight as he continued their lovemaking. She shifted slightly to a position that provided him with more access, and he went deeper into her. His hands touched her everywhere she wanted at just the right moment. She never had to ask or tell him to do anything; it was like he knew what she wanted, as if he could read her mind.

When her release came and she squeezed him tightly, she felt her entire body shake and tremble. She whimpered his name, and he stole her breath away while he devoured her mouth with his. He pushed up into her as far as possible and released, murmuring his undying and eternal love into her gaping lips as he tenderly whispering kisses across her face. Kahlan would always relish the feeling of the warmth that seeped inside her when he released. It felt wonderful, even now when there was nothing for his seed to mix with. Having this connection with Richard and feeling his love was something Kahlan would never grow tired of, and by the way he was kissing his way along her neck, she had a gut feeling that he felt the same way

"Oh, Richard," she whimpered softly, as he slipped out of her and shifted to hold her in his arms. "Do we really have to leave?"

"To keep you safe, yes," he replied. "Nothing is more important to me than you and our unborn child."

Kahlan sighed and leaned back against his chest, listening to his breathing even out as he came down from his climax. He hugged her tightly and kissed her temple. "How was that wake up call?" he asked, chuckling softly.

"Wonderful," she beamed, arching her neck to look up at him. "I wouldn't mind always waking up to you making love to me, Richard."

He smiled and cupped her face in his hand as he kissed her slowly. "We'll be on the road for a couple of days, but I'll try my best, Mother Confessor," he whispered into her lips, before shifting and sitting up. "We'll just take a bath before it gets too late."

"Bath?" Kahlan shifted on to her side and watched with greedy eyes as he stood up from the bed. His back muscles were so perfect. He cocked his head over his shoulder and smiled at her.

"Yes, a bath," he smirked. "As I said, we'll be on the road for a couple of days. There's no telling when we'll be able to have a proper bath… especially one that we can have together." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Kahlan half smiled and shook her head at him. "Richard Rahl, you are not implying what I think you are?" she asked, stunned by the playfulness she saw staring back at him in her eyes.

"What? Why not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked around the bed to help her up.

"Um?" she was caught off guard by his question. "Well, I… I just thought you were already satisfied with what we just did."

Richard shook his head at her like she was crazy. She held up her hands and he helped her sit up. Placing her hands on her swollen belly, she looked up at him, watching as he laid out their clothing for after their bath. "When will you learn, Kahlan?" he asked, laughing slightly as he laid out a green traveling cloak for her. "I can spend my entire life making love to you, and my hunger for you will never be sated. If it was physically possible, I'd spend every second of every day making love to you."

Kahlan blushed slightly. If such a thing were possible, she would gladly do the same. Being with Richard was like completing her soul, making it whole. She smiled at him as he rummaged through a dresser, picking out his old woodsman clothing. The sight of those clothes made Kahlan smile all the more. She had not seen him dress in those clothes since they had defeated the Keeper, restored the veil, and returned to Aydindril. It felt good to see he still had them, and was intending on wearing them. It reminded her of what he had been and what he had become. She only wished he could remember that as well. It was difficult, with only his memories sporadically restored to only certain things and events. She was thrilled he remembered her and his love for her, but she wished he also remembered the events surrounding those memories, because those times had helped to shape and define their love.

He looked up at her, catching her watching and smiled. Stepping over, he leaned against the side of the bed, bending down to kiss her. Kahlan closed her eyes and relished the feel of his lips, bringing up one hand up to hold his face to hers as she kissed him back. Backing away, Richard smiled and kissed her nose, before standing back up.

"Just rest here for a minute, and I'll warm the bath," he kissed her lips once more, and then disappeared into the washroom.

Kahlan sat there, running circles over her large belly and lost herself in her thoughts of the last couple of months. Five months ago, everything was wonderful and her world was perfect. But then the Chimes had begun their devastating attack on the world of magic, and she had lost her confessing powers. Richard had lost his memories and had almost been seduced by a duplicate of herself, a duplicate that turned out to be her long lost twin sister. She smiled at that—not the part about Richard almost being seduced—but at the part about having a sister.

It made her heart warm to know that she was not the last of her mother's daughters. And another part of her was happy that Cynthia did not have the powers of a confessor, because it meant that she could eventually find love again and not have to worry about continuing the line, like Kahlan did. Touching her belly again, Kahlan took a deep breath, knowing that this was only the first in many children she would bear. As the last living confessor, it was her responsibility and duty to birth as many confessors as possible. And she was grateful beyond belief that Richard could be the father to her progeny.

"Kahlan?"

She blinked and looked up, blushing in embarrassment at becoming lost in her thoughts. Reaching up, she accepted his assistance as he pulled her up to her feet. She groaned and placed her hands on her swollen belly. "I feel so big!" she complained.

"You're perfect, Kahlan," Richard soothed her, running a hand down her arm, tenderly rubbing her bare skin with his thumb.

Kahlan let out a frustrated breath, thinking he was just saying that. She knew what she looked like, having seen her reflection in the mirror many times. She could never understand how he could still find her so attractive when she had grown so heavy and large with child. Yet her appearance never seemed to stop him from desiring her. She reminded herself that the first thing he did this morning was make love to her. And now, he wanted to take a bath with her. A bath that had the potential to be more than just a simple bath.

Seeming to sense her thoughts, and wanting to prove a point, Richard slid his hand down her back and gave her bottom a playful squeeze before wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her into an impassioned embrace that left her breathless. Turning into him, Kahlan rested her side against his chest. Knitting her eyebrows together, she let out a soft gasp feeling his firm arousal press up against her side as his hands ran through her hair, his lips kissing her temple. How did she always excite him so?

"See, what did I tell you?" he smirked, murmuring softly. "Perfect."

Kahlan blushed and allowed him to lead her to the washroom. Richard stepped over the edge of the tub. He held up his hand and helped her in. They stood in the warmed water, staring at each other for a moment, before Richard ran his hand along her shoulder and down her arm, his eyes taking in all her features.

"Perfect," he repeated in a soft breath.

Holding her hands, he helped her to sit down. He rested his back against the edge of the tub, and beckoned her into his lap. Kahlan raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly was his plan. She knew that if he planned on taking her again, whilst in the tub, it would have to be from behind, because her belly was too large for anything else.

"Stop stalling, Kahlan, and sit down," Richard instructed, cocking his head slightly and giving her a hard lustful look.

Nodding, she gripped his hands and lowered until she was submerged in the water. She then scooted back, resting against his chest, and feeling his arousal press up against her backside. She sighed in contentment at the combination of the warm water and his warm embrace. Richard dipped his hands under the surface and sprinkled water along her chest. She hummed as he kissed her neck as he continued to sprinkle the warm water along her torso and shoulders, until wetting her hair.

Richard then reached over and picked up a bottle of cleaning oil. He popped the stopper and poured some of the oil into his palm. Kahlan let out a soft moan as he began rubbing it into her skin, starting with her shoulders and working his way down to her breasts. Now this was the kind of bath Kahlan wanted to take all the time. And Richard seemed to know just what to do to stifle any ragged nerves or anxiety that were tensing up her muscles.

Retrieving a bar of soap, he began working it into her skin above the waterline, tenderly running it in circles over her swollen belly, before going past the waistline. He rubbed the soap into her legs and thighs, and then placed it back in its holder, before using his hands to rub the cleanser deeper into her pores. Kahlan leaned her head back against his shoulder as his fingers worked their way into her inner thighs. She could feel him grinning. She bit her lower lip as her cheeks flushed with arousal at the feel and sight of his hand between her legs. If only he was doing more than just cleansing her body.

"Kiss me," she murmured.

Richard smirked and complied as she tilted her head to meet his lips. Kahlan moaned into his mouth as his fingers found her special place. And she gasped when his fingers touched her.

"Yes," she moaned, surprised at how easily he had awakened her need for him.

He kissed her again, sucking on her mouth as he worked his fingers over her, giving her what she needed to calm the anxiety she had not even known was building up in her body. Closing her eyes, she groaned as he slipped a finger inside her, frothing up the soapy water in the tub as he moved his hand between her legs. She blinked and groaned when he removed hhis hand. Then, before she knew it, he was lifting her slightly off the bottom of the tub and shifting himself beneath her. Kahlan looked back at him, seeing the love and desire in his eyes, and she smiled back, inclining her head in consent, giving him permission.

Richard placed her down in his lap, and she felt him enter her. She let out a moan and started rocking her hips, making the water splash and froth around them. One of his hands gripped hip, while the other caressed and fondled her breasts as his lips kissed the side of her neck. They moved slowly, taking their time, making it last longer than their wake up lovemaking. Kahlan moaned and shivered, loving the mixture of warm water and hot passion that only seemed to heat the tub water even more. When she clenched her inner muscles tight, pulling him over the edge, she moaned and released with him. Kahlan tilted her head and their lips locked as they both rode out the waves of ecstasy as the ripples they had generated within the tub slowly dissipated.

She moaned into his mouth as they came back to themselves. "That was perfect, my Richard. Just the kind of bath I needed this morning. You should give me this kind of bath more often."

He chuckled slightly, pulling her against his chest and kissing her temple. Fluttering her eyelids, she gazed back at him as he moved his hands up over the swell of her belly and rubbed her breasts.

"How do you always seem to know what I need, my Richard?" she murmured, her cheeks still flushed. "Even before I know myself?"

"I guess that's why we're so perfect together," he grinned and kissed her again, before retrieving a wayward washcloth and continued with cleansing her body of the sweaty dew left over from the heated passion from last night and the two sessions this morning.

"Mmm," she hummed, kissing him back. "See, aren't you glad I convinced you to come with me. You'd miss out on all this great kissing."

Richard chuckled and dipped his hands into the water, cupping them to pour the soapy liquid over her head. Kahlan gasped and giggled. He ran his fingers through her long hair, working in the shampoo, and massaging her scalp. "This might be your last real bath in a long time, Kahlan," he said. "I just wanted you to enjoy it."

"Well, you certainly have a way of making it memorable," she smiled, referring to the tub lovemaking. Spirits, he was still inside her, and still very much hard. He smiled and cupped his hands in the water to rinse her hair of the rich lather of soap. Kahlan leaned forward, and slipped off him, letting the water run down her back. Richard's hands followed the soapy residue, rubbing her back gently.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck, before shifting to stand. She looked back at him and scrunch up her nose. "What are you doing?" she questioned.

Richard grinned down at her, as he stepped over the lip of the tub, before coming stepping back in on the opposite side, sitting back down with his back to her. "My turn," he cocked his head back at her, his eyes beaming with playfulness and a boyish smirk plastered over his face.

Kahlan laughed and leaned back, resting against the wall of the tub, as he scooted as close as possible to her without crushing her swollen belly. Reaching over the edge of the tub, Kahlan picked up the bar of soap and grinned as she brought the cleanser to Richard shoulders and began to clean him, planning to tease him in the same manner he had teased her.


	32. Departure

Her fingers fumbled with the laces of her boots. It was so hard to tie them up with her swollen belly in the way. She grumbled and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and went back to the buttons of the traveling cloak. Kahlan would have asked Richard for help, but she did not want to seem a burden. Shifting on her feet, she glanced over her shoulder and let her eyes wander as she watched Richard hike his trousers up and tuck the ends of his blue shirt beneath the waistband. He grabbed his vest jacket off the bed and pulled it over his shoulders.

Kahlan smiled, loving how he looked in his old outfit. It felt like it had been ages since she had seem him dressed in them, when in fact, it had only really been just slightly over a year. After the failed coup d'état and his subsequent acceptance of the name and title of Lord Rahl, Richard had only worn the black and gold of a war wizard. She had missed his woodsman outfit. It was nice to see him back in the clothing she associated so much with him as the Seeker of Truth, dressed in the same manner in which she had seen him for the first time and had begun to fall in love with him.

"Here, let me help you," Richard said, smiling softly as he knelt down on his knees and began lacing up her boots. Kahlan blushed slightly, though she did not know why. It probably had to do with not having had to ask him to help, that he just did it on his own accord. His warm brown eyes gazed up at her from below the swell of her belly. "You know, we haven't even thought of names yet."

"Names?" Kahlan furrowed her brow.

"Yes," Richard nodded. "For our daughter."

"Oh, yes," Kahlan reddened, embarrassed that she had not even pondered over any names to give her firstborn. She had been too focused in her own life and fears, and had not given any time to thinking about the future, besides the fact that she was going to have a child.

"Well?" Richard inquired, finishing with the laces of one boot and moving on to the other, pausing a moment to gently rub her thigh, which only made Kahlan heat up all the more, but for different reasons that had nothing to do with being embarrassment.

"Names, okay," she knitted her eyebrows together. "Um... well, there is always my mother's name… Katharine. Or maybe we could name her after your mother, or even your grandmother."

Richard's hands stopped halfway up her second boot. Kahlan almost went completely pale as she realized what she had just said. She felt awful. His memories had been stolen from him, and he could only remember some things. What she had just said no doubt reminded him that he still had missing memories.

He avoided her eyes, his brow creasing as he concentrated on finishing tying up the laces on her boot. "What… what were their names?" Richard asked, his voice choking a bit.

"Oh, Richard, I'm so sorry…," Kahlan sucked in a quick breath, feeling terrible, knowing that Richard probably felt even worse because he could not remember his own mother's name.

"Just tell me their names, Kahlan," he whispered out, ignoring her attempts to comfort him, keeping his eyes down. His fingers worked with the laces on her boot and she allowed him to focus on them.

"Your mother's name was Tarralyn," Kahlan answered in a soft voice. "But the woman who raised you was named Mary Cypher."

She noticed Richard swallow and clench his jaw as he took in the fact that he had not been raised by his biological mother. Kahlan tried to take control of his hands, but he wouldn't let her. He finished up the laces of her boots and stood up, heaving in a deep breath.

"All right," he spoke softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "Explain it to me."

Kahlan grabbed his hand and held it in hers, guiding him over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Before you were born, there was a prophecy that a son of Brennidon would defeat Darken Rahl."

"He was my brother, right?" Richard asked, knitting his eyebrows together and sounding disgusted that it was the truth.

"I'm sorry, yes," Kahlan nodded sympathetically. She would feel sick as well to have Darken Rahl as a sibling. Though, she did not feel sick or terrible to have fallen in love with a Rahl, especially one as kind and caring as Richard. Having been raised by the Cyphers, Richard was unlike any Rahl she had ever heard about, except maybe for Alric Rahl, the war wizard of three thousand years ago who—according to Richard, at least the Richard before the loss of memories—had prophesied Richard as his one and true heir. "You don't have to worry about Darken Rahl anymore, Richard," Kahlan continued. "He's dead now. Nicci saw to that."

Richard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, silently asking her to continue with the story. She gripped his free hand and pulled it to her lap. Fiddling with his fingers, she took a deep breath before speaking.

"Well, the prophecy said that you were going to grow up to defeat him," Kahlan continued the story. "Just having come to power by murdering his own father, Rahl wanted to solidify his rule, so he ordered all the firstborn sons of Brennidon to be killed. Zedd knew your mother was due to give birth to you soon, and whilst the D'Harans rampaged through Brennidon, you were born. Zedd took you immediately and fled, taking you past the boundary and into Westland, where he hoped you would be safe." She passed to take another breath. "It wasn't until twenty-four years later, when Rahl was tightening his hold on the Midlands, that we confessors began to search for the Seeker. We thought he had died in Brennidon, but rumor persisted that the First Wizard,  _the wise one_ , as we called him—"

"Zedd?  _The wise one_? Ha!"

"Yes," Kahlan smiled slightly. "I know, funny how we thought so, but that's what we called him. No one could remember his name." Straightening out her lips and getting rid of the smile, Kahlan continued. "Well, word reached the confessors that some believed the First Wizard had rescued the prophesied son of Brennidon, who would become the Seeker of Truth, and had secreted him away across the boundary, where he could be trained without fear of being hunted down by Darken Rahl."

"That's how we met, right?" Richard nodded. "I can remember encountering you being chased by… by…" he furrowed his brow, angry with himself for not remember the rest.

Kahlan nodded, and pulled his hand up from her lap and kissed his palm. "Yes, Richard," she nodded. "That's how we met. I was being chased by a quad of D'Haran soldiers, and you saved me."

He smiled. "Then you found Zedd and he named me the Seeker of Truth?"

"More or less, yes," she nodded, not sure if it was wise yet to tell him about how he lost his adoptive father, George Cypher.

Richard remained still for a moment, then he shifted and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. He brushed his hands through her hair and kissed her temple. "I don't know what I would do without you, Kahlan," he murmured into her ear. "I honestly believe I'd be lost if it weren't for you."

"You'll do fine," she said, averting her eyes. "You're the Seeker of Truth. You never really needed me to be that. You are a true Seeker. You were destined to be one. I had nothing to do with it."

"I beg to differ," Richard objected, turning her face to look at him. "Without you, I would not have become the man I am today. It was you who sought Zedd out, right? It was you who convinced him to name me Seeker." He paused, and inched his face closer to hers. "I am who I am because of you, Kahlan. I owe you everything."

Before she could protest, he planted a soft and tender kiss on her lips. His hand dropped to run slow circles over her swollen belly. Backing up, he rested his forehead against hers and they shared a breath. Her lips trembled with the aftershock of his loving kiss.

"So… yes… names," she muttered. "Your grandmother's name was Erilyn."

"Zedd might like that," he said, moving one hand up to caress her arm, sending tingles down her spine when his rough fingers made contact with her bare skin. Richard breathed in slowly. "We could name her after Dennee?"

Kahlan caught her breath. That was sweet of him to offer, but Dennee's death was still too close to her heart. Plus, she had another sister to get to know, and she did not want to make Cynthia feel any less important, especially considering she had been given up at birth all because she had been born without confessor powers. Kahlan could still not believe her mother had bowed to the Mother Confessor's will and given up Cynthia.

Kahlan could never do that. She vowed she never would. Even if she weren't the last confessor, and not the Mother Confessor, no one would stand a chance in ordering her to abandon one of her children… unless it was a boy. The terror a male confessor could reek on the world had been ingrained into her since she first started to be taught by her fellow confessors. Not for the first time, she prayed that Richard would be happy with only daughters, and if the unthinkable should occur, she would have the strength to see what needed to be done.

When Dennee had given birth to a son, Richard had convinced her that the child could be saved. She knew it would be even harder if the child was theirs, but her beliefs were too deep to completely ignore, even for Richard. Kahlan would have to show him the accounts from that time. There were not many, but the few that survived from that Dark Age were damning enough to convince him how dangerous male confessors could be.

Her silent brooding did not go unnoticed. Richard's hand moved up and caressed the side of her face. "If it's still too early to name a child after Dennee, I understand," he said. "We'll have plenty of daughters in the future to name for their aunt."

"Thank you," Kahlan whispered, filling her lungs with air again.

Richard leaned forward and kissed her again, slow and tender, before standing up and offering his hand. His face was a mask, no emotions showing. He looked like a statue. "We're running behind schedule," he said, his eyes darting over to the opened doors leading to the balcony and glimpsing the rising sun. "We'll discuss this more… later, but for now, I think we're done. At least we've now broached the subject." He finally gave her a smile, it was weak, and seemed forced, but at least he was smiling.

Kahlan sighed, and took his offered hand and stood up, placing a hand on her belly. She thought she might have ruined his good mood by mentioning his mother… both of them. Silently admonishing herself, she finished up getting dressed, pulling the traveling cloak he had selected for her earlier, before their bath, and slung it over her shoulders. She tied the bindings and watched as Richard retrieved the Sword of Truth and attached the scabbard to his belt.

The sunlight glimmered off the silver in the scabbard and Kahlan had to remind herself to breathe. Richard was once again her Seeker.

XXX

According to the plan, they were supposed to have left over two hours ago, yet here Cynthia stood, still waiting for her sister. Her heart went wild with the thought. She had a sister! It was still a little overwhelming reminding herself of that fact. But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It was the only way to really describe some of the things in her life that she had always thought of as being odd; like how she had never really looked like her parents. As a young teenager, Cynthia had just assumed that she had gotten her features from some remote branch of the family tree, a branch she had never seen.

Now Cynthia knew the truth. She was an Amnell, daughter of a Mother Confessor, and sister of a Mother Confessor. She was also the sister-in-law to the Lord Rahl. It was all incredibly amazing, having two such wonderful people as family. Kahlan had more than made up for the embarrassing misunderstanding in the kitchens, and had been so kind to forgive her for what Cynthia had done in the woods all those months ago upon Sister Bree's orders.

Gazing out the window, Cynthia could spy the sun approaching its zenith. Her stomach rumbled and growled at her. Turning away, she paced back and forth, debating over whether or not to go to the kitchens to get something to eat. She did not want to be occupied elsewhere when Kahlan emerged and was ready to leave. She glanced up at the blonde Mord'Sith guarding the door. Cynthia recognized her as Rikka, the Mord'Sith who seemed the most protective and loyal to the Mother Confessor.

Rikka watched her pacing impassively, though Cynthia could sense that the Mord'Sith was just as worried and concerned as she was, she just was better able at hiding it. Fiddling with her hands, Cynthia kept her eyes turned away, still a little nervous around the Mord'Sith, especially blonde ones. She did not know why, but the blonde ones just terrified her.

The clack of booted footsteps on stone caused her to stop her pacing and forget her hungry stomach. Looking up, she saw the Mord'Sith that frightened her the most. Cynthia involuntary inwardly shuddered. Nothing good ever seemed to come from encountering this particular Mord'Sith. Her hair was braided and the long braid swayed back and forth, following her long strides. Out of all the Mord'Sith, Cara was perhaps the closest to the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor, and she was very protective of them. Cynthia also had the feeling that the Mord'Sith was still unsure about her, because Cara always gave her a glare whenever they encounter one another.

Licking her lips nervously, Cynthia stepped aside, silently hoping that Cara was simply passing by. However, she knew such a hope was only wishful thinking, because they were all waiting outside the bedchambers of the Mother Confessor and Lord Rahl. Coming to a halt, Cara nodded a greeting to Rikka before turning towards Cynthia.

"Are they still  _wrestling_?" Cara asked in an amused voice, crossing her arms.

Cynthia raised her eyebrows, knowing full well what the Mord'Sith was implying. "I… I don't know," she said, averting her eyes and fiddling with her hands. She knew that Richard and Kahlan had most likely been "wrestling," as the Mord'Sith put it, judging by the moans and gasps that had floated down the corridors last night. And it was clear that the two had been doing some other things earlier in the morning besides waking up and getting dressed, because Cynthia had been jolted awake by a loud scream, only to realize it was a different kind of scream, one of pleasure instead of pain or fear.

The Mord'Sith stood there, eyeing her for a moment, and smirked. "Yes," she gave a nod of her head. "I heard it, too."

Thankfully, the sound of the bolt unlocking on the door saved Cynthia from having to answer. The heavy oak swung open and the two persons in question emerged, hand in hand. Rikka stepped aside as Richard and Kahlan stepped out of the doorway and into the hall. The Lord Rahl was dressed in a blue shirt with leather pants and a brown vest jacket. He looked the part of a woodsman, and it startled Cynthia, because she had always seen him as the Lord Rahl, dressed in black and gold. Kahlan was dressed in a green cloak with traveling boots.

"So, are you two done  _bonking_? Or would you like us to come back later?" Cara inquired, her grin matching the playfulness in her eyes.

Kahlan raised her eyebrows in shock at the question and Richard merely shook his head and smirked, obviously resisting the urge to laugh out loud. "That, Cara, is none of your business," he replied sternly, though the tone of his voice sounded amused by the Mord'Sith's bluntness. Kahlan gave a concurring nod, then detached herself from her husband and walked over to give Cynthia a hug.

Cynthia beamed, savoring the embrace of her sister. Stepping back, she kept a hand on Kahlan's shoulder, not completely ready to let go. Kahlan did not seem to mind, because she stayed close, running her own arm around Cynthia. "So, what's the plan?" Cynthia questioned, looking back and forth between her sister and brother-in-law.

"Well, we're still leaving," Kahlan replied after taking a quick breath and looking at Cynthia.

"And I'm coming with you," Richard said, not missing a beat. The two Mord'Sith cocked their heads and exchanged glances. "Kahlan and I have discussed it, and we've decided that it is futile to try and defend Aydindril against the numbers facing us. So, we'll retreat back to D'Hara."

"I think that would be best, yes," Cara inclined her head in agreement. "You two should have been smuggled out the moment the Order first appeared. This has been long overdue!"

Richard gave Cara a look, then he turned back to Kahlan and extended his hand. Cynthia sighed in disappointment when her sister let go and drifted back over to her husband. But she was then startled when Kahlan grabbed her hand and pulled her along, keeping her close. They walked down the corridor and made their way to the grand staircase.

Flanked by the two Mord'Sith, they walked down the steps into the grand foyer of the Confessor's Palace. Statues of confessors and wizards dominated the marble hall, and large ornate columns held up the roof. Cynthia knew that everything had already been packed, she had seen to it herself, with the aid of her friend Ruthy and some of the other palace staff. She knew that the majority of the civilians that remained were to be evacuated, but now that the Lord Rahl was coming with them, Cynthia wondered whether or not it was going to be a full retreat, with the soldiers coming as well.

They marched outside and down the stone steps towards the square that had been taken over by the army as the command base to oversee the defense of the city. Cynthia spotted Zedd and a D'Haran general with the rust-colored beard standing there, along with a tall and handsome captain, whose eyes seemed to be locked on the Mord'Sith Cara. The blonde haired sorceress was nowhere to be seen. Cynthia furrowed her brow, wondering where she was.

"Finally finished  _reassuring_  one another, have you?" Zedd chortled loudly at the young couple.

Kahlan blushed and Richard hugged her closer. Cynthia stepped back and remained quiet, observing the others and listening to the conversation.

"I'm going with her, Zedd," Richard spoke up without preamble.

There was a glint in the old wizard's eyes. "I suspected as much, so I've already taken the liberty of having Captain Meiffert see to your things, my boy," Zedd said.

Richard nodded, thanking his grandfather. His eyes scanned the square and his brow creased. "Where's Nicci?" he questioned.

"The sorceress wanted to check on the Wizard's Keep, Lord Rahl," General Reibsich spoke up.

Zedd nodded. "We had a talk last night about placing some spells on the entrances of the Wizard's Keep," the old wizard said. "Seeing how she still has access to the subtractive magic gifted to her by the Keeper, which seems to be the only form of magic unaffected by the Chimes, Nicci felt it wise to begin as soon as possible."

"A wise precaution," Richard concurred. "We should leave as soon as she is finished."

General Reibsich clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck with his big hand. "Begging your pardons, Lord Rahl," he broached. "But we've already discussed this and we all have agreed that you should leave… immediately."

Richard blinked, startled. Cynthia bit her lip and looked back and forth between the Lord Rahl and his general. "What?" Richard questioned.

"Aydindril may not be salvageable," Zedd spoke up, stepping between his grandson and the general. "But the Wizard's Keep cannot be left undefended. There are things in there, should magic be restored, can be devastatingly dangerous in the hands of the enemy."

"I will remain," General Reibsich said firmly. "Most of the men will leave with you, Lord Rahl, for your protection, but those who have already volunteered will stay behind and guard the Wizard's Keep."

"Zedd?"

"Don't worry, my boy," Zedd replied, placing a hand on Richard's shoulder. "I will be coming with you. Without my magic, I'm useless to them. Besides, Nicci has already volunteered to stay behind with the men."

"As have I," Captain Benjamin Meiffert spoke for the first time.

"What? No, Ben, you can't!" Cara exclaimed, forgetting herself for a moment. Cynthia was startled by the outburst, and for the first time saw Cara as a woman, instead of a Mord'Sith.

The D'Haran captain took Cara's gloved hand in his and held it to his chest. "I must, Cara," he spoke softly. "General Reibsich will need my help with commanding the men who have volunteered for this assignment."

"But Ben…?" Cara's voice was pleading and held the note of a whimper that Cynthia had never heard come from a Mord'Sith. It was one of the most frightening things Cynthia had ever seen.

"Shh," Meiffert placed a finger on her lips, and then replaced it with his lips, openly kissing her in front of everyone, the Lord Rahl, the Mother Confessor, and the other Mord'Sith.

Cynthia was surprised that Cara did not even fight it. For a woman, especially a Mord'Sith, who had been trained to be powerful and never to submit, Cara simply melted into Captain Meiffert, allowing him to hold her tightly. Backing away, they rested their foreheads together and shared a breath.

"I love you, Cara," Meiffert murmured softly, though Cynthia could still here it. "And I will come back to you. But I have to do this."

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Cara leaned back. "Then I will stay with you."

"Cara…," Meiffert opened his mouth to object, but this time, she silenced him with a finger on his lips.

Cynthia watched as the Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes and seemed to summon up the courage to say what she was going to say. "I love you, Ben, and I cannot live without you," she said, turning her head and looking at Richard and Kahlan. "If there is anything I have learned from these two, it's that love is not something to take for granted."

"Then you should stay," Richard said, wrapping his arm around Kahlan's waist, pulling her closer. Cynthia noticed their hands join together above Kahlan's baby bump.

"Thank you, Lord Rahl," Cara nodded her head, then blanched. "But what about you? I can't abandon you!"

"Cara, you are not abandoning us," Kahlan insisted, leaning against Richard's shoulder. "If anything, by following your heart, you are embracing everything we have tried to teach you about what it means to live. If staying here with Captain Meiffert is what your heart is telling you to do, then do it. Listen to your heart, Cara." She paused and smirked slightly. "Besides, I'm sure General Reibsich won't object to having a Mord'Sith left behind to assist him."

"Mistress Cara would be most welcomed," the General spoke up on cue.

Cara still looked a little wary. Cynthia could tell that even though the Mord'Sith had made the declaration of wanting to stay with Captain Meiffert, she was still torn between her duty and her heart. As if to put her mind at ease, Richard raised a hand and gestured towards the other Mord'Sith.

"We won't be alone or unprotected, Cara," he reassured her. "Rikka, Berdine… all the Mord'Sith will be with us. Not to mention Lieutenant Zimmer and the rest of the First File."

Taking a breath, the blonde Mord'Sith visibly relaxed. She gave both Richard and Kahlan a small grateful smile, something that was probably unheard of a year or two ago. Cynthia watched as the Mord'Sith turned and stood beside the D'Haran captain. With ease and without hesitation, the man put an arm around her shoulder and the Mord'Sith actually leaned into his touch. Cynthia was simply amazed at what she was witnessing

"All right," Zedd said, clapping his hands together. "Now that that's settled, I think it's time we get underway."

XXX

Pulling the reins back, Verna brought her mount to a halt next to Warren's. Her husband—yes, her husband! She could still hardly believe that he had married her—turned and flashed her one of his charming smiles, as they caught up with Nathan, the prophet, and Tom, the broad-shoulder D'Haran of the First File, whom Richard had assigned to escort them. The old prophet ran a hand through his shoulder length silver hair and glanced over at her with his piercing Rahl eyes.

"So, Sister Verna," he said in his regal Rahl voice. "Tom and I were just discussing the possibility of setting up camp for some rest. What do you think?"

Verna took a quick breath and narrowed her eyes at the prophet. "We could use some rest, yes," she inclined her head, always hesitant and cautious around the prophet. Verna would never admit it, but she was afraid of falling into one of the prophet's infamous battles of words. He thought of his word traps as a game, and laughed at them. Being the stern and logical woman that she was, Verna thought of them as a waste of time.

Nathan was crafty and devious. She would never understand why Prelate Annalina Aldurren trusted him so much. Verna, and about every other Sister of the Light, knew the Prelate had fallen in love with the prophet, having been the man's main visitor during his captivity at the Palace of the Prophets. But Verna always felt uneasy being around the man.

"Well, if anything, the horses could sure use a break!" Warren spoke up, lightening the mood, as he leaned forward and patted the sweat-lathered neck of his steed.

Verna let out a soft sigh, forever grateful for Warren's bright and youthful look on the world. If it had not been for him, she would have become exceedingly depressed once the Imperial Order had invaded the Midlands and started its slow yet methodical march towards Aydindril, the prize of the Midlands.

Having grown up in the Old World, Verna knew all about the savagery of the Order, and their false claims of piety towards the Creator. The Brotherhood of the Order only extolled those virtues that fit in with their own. And even then they twisted things around until it meant what they wanted it to mean. Verna had grown tired of all the hypocrisy, which she had come to see everywhere she went, even in the Palace of the Prophets. The Prelate claimed to seek to serve the Creator, but her actions always spoke contrary to such statements.

The last straw for Verna had been Annalina's treatment of Richard Rahl, the Seeker of Truth, and Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor. It had been arrogant for the Prelate to believe she could fulfill prophecy by locking the Mother Confessor within the palace walls and allowing the Seeker to die in the Valley of Perdition. Since then, Verna had been labeled a rogue by the Prelate, and had been considered just as worse as the Sisters of the Dark, not because she worshiped the Keeper like those vile betrayers did, but because she refused to blindly follow the Prelate's ludicrous commands.

"You all right, my love?"

Verna blinked and looked up, seeing Warren leaning across the gap between their horses, one his hands gently rubbing her shoulder. She gave him a soft smile of reassurance and inclined her head.

Tom found a spot for them to camp, and Verna absently went about helping the others set it up. In was not until after they had finished a good hearty meal of stew—Tom and Warren had managed to capture a rabbit—had Verna started to relax. She leaned back in Warren's chest as they snuggled up close on the bedroll. He draped a thick warm blanket over them, and tugged her close.

"Stop your worrying, Verna," Warren whispered in her ear as he nuzzled her neck. "I predict a world of light at the end of all this darkness."

Verna could not help herself, and she spun around to face him. Placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath, she glanced up into his blue eyes. "How do you know?" she asked, half afraid it was all an illusion.

"I have foreseen it," Warren replied, meeting her gaze.

Tilting her head, Verna risked a glance over at the old prophet, who was sound asleep and snoring loudly. Tom, who was on watch, drifted over to the prophet and gave him a gently tap with his foot, making the old man turn, ceasing his loud snores, though they still remained, just subdued. Turning back to Warren, she blinked and stared up into his youthful face, searching for any signs that he was just trying to reassure her. Yet, despite her best efforts, she found none. He was telling her the truth.

"Then you  _are_  a prophet, as we have suspected?" Verna inquired, flattening her palm over his heart, relishing the reassuring feel of its pulsating under his chest.

"Yes, my love," he murmured softly. "I am a prophet. And I have seen many things. And one of those things was a light at the end."

"What… what about us?" Verna inquired. "What do you see for us?" She averted her eyes and fiddled with the loose strings on his tunic.

Warren slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise then, now would it?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Verna swallowed and regained the courage to look into his eyes. "I need you, Warren," she spoke softly, very aware of the silence that had fallen over the camp. Only the crackle of the fire and Nathan's soft snores seemed to be present. "I love you… more than I ever thought possible. I… I just wish that I were younger and could…"

"Shh," he soothed her, placing a finger over her trembling lips.

This was not the first time Verna felt regret and bitterness towards the long years she had wasted away searching for Richard Rahl. She did not blame Richard for those years, for it was not his doing that sent her out of the protective aging spell of the Palace of the Prophets. That was all the Prelate's fault. Annalina Aldurren was to blame.

If only she was younger, she could give Warren a child. Verna knew her years had not yet completely caught up on her, that she might still be capable of bearing children, but those years were rapidly diminishing. And she was not getting any younger. And unlike the Mother Confessor, Verna did not think it was wise to risk becoming with child during the current chaos.

"Warren?" Verna pleaded in a whimpering voice, almost embarrassed with how pathetic she sounded.

"Calm yourself, Verna," her young husband said, moving his hand to caress the side of her face, his fingers affectionately playing with the brown ringlets of her hair. "I love you, and will always love you."

He leaned forward and kissed her temple.

"To ease your mind, I will tell you one thing I have foreseen," he murmured against her ear. She shivered, feeling his warm breath along her neck. Warren moved his lips up and down her neck, planting light kisses upon her skin, causing her spine to tingle.

"What is that?" she questioned in a breathy voice.

His lips found her earlobe and he teased her gently, before giving her his reply. "A child," he whispered into her ear.

Verna's eyes grew wide and she leaned back, startled. "Me? You? Us? A… a child?"

Warren smiled softly. The light from the small fire made his youthful face glow. He raised his hand over his head and waved it around. A sparkle of flecks of purple light danced around them, and Verna's body tingled. Furrowing her brow, she wondered how it was possible. Then she remembered that as a prophet, Warren, just like Nathan, had some subtractive magic, though not as powerful as the subtractive magic that Richard Rahl, as a war wizard had. She looked around and noticed everything had seemed to freeze in time, and recognized it as a concealing spell. To the rest of the world, they would be undetectable. She furrowed her brow, confused, wondering what Warren was doing. Before she could ask, Warren shifted her, positioning her under him. He cupped her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes with a love similar to that she had seen the Seeker have when he stared with longing at the Mother Confessor. Such a look coming from her husband's eyes made her breath catch.

"Warren?" she questioned.

"Do not doubt yourself, Verna," Warren said, caressing her cheeks. "You are more beautiful and stronger than you think." He kissed her deeply, and she felt his knee come between her legs, preparing to push them apart. "And you will make a wonderful mother."


	33. Journeys

A strong gush of wind picked up and roared like a demon from the very depths of the Underworld. Snow flurries drifted across the tall peaks of the mountains that loomed upon high. The cold wind brought the white flecks dancing down across the terracotta rooftops of the old monastery that was built into the face of the mountain; two lone towers jutting up into the grey sky, with a long great hall running between them. A long and windy road spiraled, twisted and turned, up the mountain face from the lush valley below, leading travelers to the secluded sanctuary. The path was empty, saved one lone rider, his donkey braying with exhaustion and irritation at the snowfall that was beginning to hamper their journey.

Encouraging his donkey on, the rider clutched his deep orange cloak tighter around his shivering frame. He had been traveling for quite sometime to reach this secluded monastery, and he was not used to the cold weather he was encountering. He had come from the south, near the southern fringes of the Rang'Shada Mountains. But, despite his discomfort, he trudged on. His task was an important one. The abbot himself had given it to him, and he was loathed to disappoint.

The journey had taken him a good five months, and finally his goal was in sight. The trip across the Midlands had been a difficult one, what with the horde from the Old World rampaging through the countryside. Yet he somehow, praise to the Creator, had managed to slip past them.

Now, mere yards away from his destination, he was beginning to see hope at the end of the tunnel. There would be a fire, a warm cot, and food waiting for him inside. But he would still need to see Abbot Percival as soon as he arrived. Everything else could wait. Looking up, he could see the sun fighting to stay visible, but the dark clouds were moving in fast, and the snow flurries were picking up, becoming heavier and much larger, turning into a blizzard that would no doubt trap them all inside the stone walls of the monastery.

His donkey brayed loudly, protesting, and he squeezed his legs, encouraging the poor beast of burden to quicken its pace for the final climb up the slope. He patted the poor animal's neck and promised a stable with some soft warm hay to lay on and some oats to feed on. As the rider glanced back up, he could see the glowing of a lantern in the monastery's gatehouse, and a brother standing watch.

The wind picked up just a tad as he approached the gate.

"Ho! Who goes there?" called the gatekeeper, his voice gruff and untrusting.

Pulling the donkey to a slow trot, the rider removed his hood, showing the shaved head of an acolyte. "I am Brother Kevan of the Cloister of Tinnar, sent by Abbot Eddard with an important message for Abbot Percival."

The gatekeeper gave a brief nod, but did not move. Kevan furrowed his brow, believing he had given the man ample reason to open the gate. "Hold up your hands!" the man snorted.

Kevan did so. There was some noise from within the gatehouse, and then two more brothers appeared, each holding curved swords that looked out of place amongst monks. The gatekeeper followed them, holding his own steel sword.

"Remain still… move a muscle and you're dead," he said.

Swallowing hard, Kevan obeyed. Perhaps things were much more worse here than they had suspected back in Tinnar. One of the armed monks grabbed the reins of the donkey, while the other walked around behind him. Kevan narrowed his eyes, just a bit, knowing what they were looking for. Upon their induction into the Order of Ulrich, each initiate was given a circular tattoo on the back of the head. Each tattoo was unique, in accordance with the Cloister they joined. The one that Kevan bore had two lines that past through the center of the circle, forming an X shape.

The monk standing behind him made a sound and nodded. "He is from Tinnar."

The gatekeeper lowered his sword. "Sorry for the treatment, Brother," he said, turning back towards the gate. "But in these troubled times, we all must take precautions."

"I understand," Kevan nodded, accepting back his reins from the armed monk who had held them.

"Was your journey difficult?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Kevan inclined his head. "The horde is everywhere, to be honest, I am surprised I managed to even make it here without being caught by one of their patrols."

The gatekeeper gave a slight smile as he bobbed his head. "They're more interested in the Mother Confessor… and what's his name… the new Lord Rahl…"

"The Seeker of Truth," Kevan inclined his head. "Yes. I believe his name is Richard Cypher… well, Richard Rahl now that he has taken the title of Master of D'Hara."

"Yes, yes," the gatekeeper nodded, rubbing his chin. "Well, I bet I better let you in. You're donkey's looking quite fatigued."

"She's a tough old girl, but yes, she's been working hard to get me here," Kevan answered, giving the jenny an affectionate pat on her neck.

The armed monks made their way back to the gatehouse, and the gatekeeper gave him one last look before opening the gate, allowing Kevan and his donkey through. After seeing to his jenny's needs, the young man crossed the courtyard and entered the sanctuary, where his fellow brother of the Order of Ulrich would be gathered for evening prayer.

Passing under an arched doorway, entering the sanctuary, he found that they had just finished the psalms and hymns common among their order when their evening worship was completed. At the head of the group stood an elderly man, tall and thin, with wispy white hair. It would be some time until Kevan could grow his hair that long. He knew immediately that the elderly man was Abbot Percival.

Kevan knelt before the abbot, who acknowledged him, placing an open palm over his forehead and murmuring a greeting and blessing to the Creator.

"You may stand, our brother. Speak and tell us what brings you here," Abbot Percival said in a strong voice the belied his true age.

He slowly got up to his feet, but kept his head bowed in reverence. "I am Acolyte Kevan of the Cloister of Tinnar," he introduced himself. Percival gave a nod.

Opening his shoulder bag, he retrieved the rolled up parchment he had been carrying and held it up to Abbot Percival.

"Abbot Eddard instructed me to give this to no one but you, sir," Kevan said, inclining his head as Abbot Percival took the parchment from him. The man was the eldest abbot of their order, and the most respected. He also happened to be the head of their order, and had caused quite a stir amongst the other lesser abbots when he had moved to the monastery up in the mountains high up north, not far from the Aydindril fortress village of Obentan.

All the monks watched as Percival unrolled the scroll and read from its contents, which had been written directly by the hand of Abbot Eddard of the Cloister of Tinnar. The old man's brow lowered and his lips turned down into a frown.

"This is grave news," he said, his gaze shifting up to Kevan. "We must inform the Mother Confessor." Percival turned to one of the monks standing beside him and handed him the note. Kevan watched as the man, who was obviously the prior of the monastery, read through the letter himself.

"Indeed, brother Abbot, this is grave news," he said, his voice one of a well-educated and cultured man. "And I agree, the Mother Confessor must be informed… at once."

"Then you shall go, Brother Cadelf," Abbot Percival said with a nod. He then turned and looked hard at Kevan. "And take Brother Kevan with you as well. The young man seems quite capable, and it is time he advances in rank."

Cadelf gave a bow of his head and turned to face Kevan. "Follow me, young man," he said, smiling friendlily. "We have need of supplies and fresh mounts for the journey."

The man spun on his heels and began marching off. Kevan looked to the abbot, who smiled and inclined his head, dismissing him. Bowing in respect and reverence for the venerable leader of his order, Kevan then turned around and followed the prior. Cadelf was a couple of strides ahead of him, heading into an adjacent room, when he finally caught up. The friendly man turned his head and handed the letter back.

"Here, you should keep that in your satchel," Cadelf said. "Abbot Eddard obviously had a greet deal of faith in you, and I shall trust in his faith. After all, you have made it all the way up here, now haven't you?"

"Yes, Brother Prior," Kevan inclined his head, taking the letter and rolling it back up before putting it inside his shoulder bag.

"Oh, please, Brother Cadelf—or just Cadelf—will be just fine," the prior said. "I have no need for titles and honorifics."

"As you say, si—Cadelf," Kevan grinned. He had only just met this man, but he already knew he was going to like him.

"Brother Jerome oversees the storage locker," Cadelf said, turning and opening a door, pulling his cowl up over his head to shield his face from the snow falling around in the courtyard. The man turned to look back at Kevan, his ice blue eyes sparkling. "If the rumors from our brothers in Aydindril are true, the Mother Confessor will not be at the Confessor's Palace for much longer."

"Why would she not be in the Confessor's Palace?" Kevan inquired, having heard very little news during his journey up north. It had been a challenge to avoid the horde that had been amassing in the central valley of the Midlands.

"The Imperial Order is laying siege to Aydindril as we speak," Cadelf informed him. "And according to our brothers, who have already fled the city, the Lord Rahl is planning on evacuating and heading over the mountains and into D'Hara."

"He's abandoning the Midlands?" Kevan had trouble keeping the shock from his voice.

"Not entirely, no," Cadelf replied. "Though Aydindril will fall… only the Creator knows what they'll do to that jewel of a city." The prior paused and turned to look back out into the courtyard. "Come… enough gossip for now. We must leave as soon as possible."

"But what about the blizzard?" Kevan asked, pulling his own hood up as he followed Cadelf out into the snow.

"We'll work around it," came Cadelf's response. "We must reach the Mother Confessor before she crosses into D'Hara. Her and the Lord Rahl must see what it is that Abbot Eddard as written."

XXX

It had been about three hours since Richard and Lieutenant Zimmer had agreed to bring the marching force to a halt and find a place to set up camp. Kahlan was seated by one of the warm fires with her sister Cynthia on one side, and her maidservant Ruthy on the other. She had just had a very unpleasant argument with the Lord Rahl. So she was sulking and was being difficult when Cynthia tried getting her to eat some of the stew that had been prepared. Eventually she had relented, sensing the worry in her sister.

The argument had been rather silly, really. Richard had wanted her to sleep in the carriage, but she couldn't do that, especially when all the men guarding them slept on the cold hard ground. Richard had begun to be bossy, so she kind of snapped and yelled at him, even having gone so far as to accuse him of trying to usurp her authority as Mother Confessor. It had taken her a good portion of an hour to cool down. That's when she felt terrible about the things she had said to him.

So, that was the reason for her sulky mood. Cynthia seemed to understand, having witnessed the entire fight. Her sister had told her to sit down and relax. Kahlan had reluctantly agreed. Even though she had ridden all day in the carriage, she was rather fatigued and tired. Ruthy laid a blanket down for her to sit on, and the two other women helped Kahlan down to the ground, resting her back against a fallen tree trunk.

Richard had kept his distance, obviously thinking she was angry at him and didn't want him around, which was completely untrue… well, she was mad, but she wanted to be with him, especially now.

"Did you like the stew, Kahlan?" Cynthia asked, taking the empty bowl and passing it to Ruthy. The maidservant shuffled off to the side and began cleaning it, though stayed close.

Kahlan sighed. "It was hearty," she said, patting her swollen belly with one hand. "And no doubt it was a good meal for the baby."

"You eat too little," Cynthia reproached, and then went pale. "Spirits, sorry, I don't know what came over—"

"Cynthia, it's all right," Kahlan gave her a soft smile and rubbed a hand over her belly. "You're my sister, if there is anyone who is allowed to speak to me like that, it is you… and Richard, of course."

"Yes, Richard…," Cynthia nodded, sitting back down next to her. There was a brief pause in the conversation. "He's right, you know."

"Huh?" she made a soft sound in response. Even though she was playing dumb, Kahlan knew very well what Cynthia meant.

"You should sleep in the carriage," her sister said, rather boldly, but, then again, Kahlan had just given her license to do so.

Kahlan sighed and inclined her head. "Yes… I know," she grumbled. "But… I… I want to have him with me. Though, knowing Richard, even if he doesn't have all his memories, he'll not want to have the nice comforts that the carriage has to offer. He'd rather sleep on the cold hard ground like his men." She huffed, irritated again, and crossed her arms under her breasts, something that was becoming increasingly difficult with the growth of her middle.

Cynthia lowered her head and placed a hand on Kahlan's shoulder. "I understand," she said.

Taking a long deep breath, she nodded and gave her sister a soft smile. Suddenly she felt a light tickling sensation on her legs. Then another. And another. Frowning, she looked down and gasped. A dark brown insect with six legs and long antennae scurried out from under her legs. Startled, Kahlan jumped back, causing the fallen tree trunk to lurch backwards. In moments, a swarm of the nasty bugs were crawling all over the place.

Cynthia yelped and jumped back. She reached out and grabbed Kahlan's hand, trying to help her up. The cockroaches were crawling up her legs. Unable to control herself, Kahlan let out a high-pitched cry. She tried swatting at the cockroaches, but they were so large and nasty that she found herself frightened by their alien appearance and sudden swarming materialization.

Seconds after her cry hit the air, the unmistakable sound of the Sword of Truth being unsheathed resounded through the clearing. Mere moments later,  _he_  was by her side. Kahlan went red with embarrassment at having alarmed him with nothing so threatening as a swarm of nasty bugs, but she was too anxious and frighten by cockroaches' sudden appearance around her that she had no time to really feel the humiliation.

Richard clenched his jaw when he saw the situation, but he said nothing about how childish she was being. Instead, he swept the cockroaches off her legs and stomped on them with his boots, crushing them. When her legs were rid of the nasty blighters, Richard sheathed the Sword of Truth and lifted her up into his arms. Carrying her aloft, he stomped his foot in the ground one more time, a sickening, yet oh so satisfying crunch was heard from underfoot and Kahlan smiled.

"My hero," she mumbled, look up at him, amazed he was able to hold her… spirits, she was so large!

A boyish smirk formed on his lips and he winked. "Perhaps now you'll reconsider my suggestion about sleeping in the carriage," he said, turning to carry her in the direction of said carriage.

Kahlan idly ran a finger along his chest, working her hand into the gap at the top of his shirt. "Only if you join me," she purred out, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent, an intoxicating aroma of sweat and pine.

Richard made a small sound in response, but was otherwise silent on the matter. Kahlan looked over his shoulder and saw Cynthia and Ruthy scurrying about the fire with a torch trying to scare off the bugs. Soon a soldier or two, including Lieutenant Zimmer showed up to help the women. She watched the battle ensure and smiled as she watched the men of D'Hara crush and defeat the vile vermin that had spoiled her evening… or had they.

Before their unwelcome arrival, Kahlan had been forlorn and lost without her Richard, but now, she was safe and warm in his arms. A small smile touched her lips as she realized that he had not denied her request. Perhaps she would get her wish and be granted the company of her husband as she slept. Kahlan was positive she'd sleep more soundly with his arms wrapped around him, and her back resting against his strong chest.

"Here we go," Richard spoke softly, putting her down on her feet.

Kahlan blinked in the dim light and glanced up to see the carriage. It was large enough for three people to lie comfortably, which Kahlan had tested out the day before with Cynthia and Ruthy. So she knew that she and Richard would have plenty of space. Holding her hand, he helped her up into the back and then climbed up beside her, his free hand resting on the small of her back.

"So, are you joining me, Lord Rahl?" she asked playfully, her lips curving upwards.

The right corner of Richard's mouth turned up in a smirk. "How can I deny a beautiful woman, especially one carrying my child, such a request?" he asked in response to her question.

"I don't know, how can you?" she teased back, placing a hand on his chest. She fisted his shirt in a tight grip and pulled him forward for a kiss, surprising him with the act.

His mouth touched hers and it ignited the burning passion and love she had for him. His arms quickly wrapped around her and held her as closer as possible without crushing her baby bump. Her hands rested on his chest and she grabbed at his collar, keeping him from leaving, as she deepened the kiss, pushing her tongue past his lips and tasting him.

They moaned together and withdrew for a breath. Sharing the air around them, Kahlan rested her forehead against his. "I'll take that as a yes, then," she said.

"Yes," he nodded, peppering her face with more kisses. "From now on, we sleep side by side… in the carriage… deal?"

"Deal!" Kahlan grinned and leaned up to kiss him again.

Richard helped her down to the soft padding that had been laid out on the carriage for her comfort during the day's ride. She wiggled and pushed her back into his chest as he reached across them, pulling her green blanket up and over. His arms tucked in around her and Kahlan eased into his hold, loving the warmth that came from his body, taking away the coolness of the evening.

Nuzzling her neck, he whispered soft kisses against her neck while murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. She melted and her cheeks flushed with happiness and contentment. Kahlan let her feelings known in a soft and long breathy sigh. Grabbing one of his hands, she placed it on her swollen belly and smiled as he spread his fingers and caressed it as he would a child's head.

"She's going to be beautiful," he murmured into her hair. "Just like her mother, with long dark hair and brilliant blue eyes."

Kahlan chuckled as the stubble on his chin tickled her neck. "Oh no, no," she shook her head. "I want her to have your eyes… and your heart. She'll be just like you. You'll teach her about the woods and nature… how to track, hunt, and make fires."

"And you'll teach her how to be wise and noble, strong and brave, fearless," Richard purred into her neck as he opened his mouth and sucked on her flesh, causing her to writhe with pleasure. "She'll be you… all you."

"No," Kahlan closed her eyes, smiling, picturing the little girl that was growing inside her. "She'll be us… all us."

Richard's mouth moved away from her neck and she could feel him snuggling up closer to her, his legs intertwining with hers under the blanket. "I like that, Kahlan," she could hear the smile on his lips. "I like that a lot."

Arching her neck to look back at him, Kahlan returned the smile she saw beaming from his face. "So would I, Richard," she replied joyfully.

His warm brown eyes twinkled in the starlight and then his eyebrows came together. " _Daphne_ ," he spoke softly.

"Daphne?" Kahlan furrowed her brow.

"A name…," he answered sincerely, "for our little girl." He paused and looked down at her. "How does Daphne sound?"

Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together and sounded out the name again… attaching her surname. They had already talked about it, and had both agreed that they would not pass on the Rahl name to their children. " _Daphne Amnell_ ," it brought a smile to her lips.

Richard watched her as she contemplated the name. She looked off into the stars and closed her eyes; once again envisioning the little girl in her mind.

"Daphne…," she breathed out and nodded. "Yes. I like it." Opening her eyes she gazed up at him. "Daphne it is, then!"

Turning back to rest her head against the cushion, Kahlan ran her hand over her swollen belly and rested it over Richard's. He nuzzled her neck and he kissed her again, before relaxing. Kahlan hummed softly, running her fingers over his. Soon his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep. Smiling softly, she nodded to herself.

"Daphne Amnell, the next confessor. Yes," she concluded. "I like that. I like it a lot."

Then, with her husband's arms around him, his face buried in her long hair, Kahlan Amnell, the Mother Confessor, closed her eyes and dreamed of a little girl with long dark hair and brown eyes named Daphne.


	34. Wait

Mother was on the move. And father was with her. She was happy, happier than she had been before. The three sisters were pleased. Though they did not understand how what father did to her resulted in mother being pleased. Humans were strange creatures. Father and mother seemed to fight quite often, wrestling with each other, moaning and grunting. Sometimes mother would even scream.

The three sisters thought that they were arguing or having some human conflict that would always be foreign to them. But whatever it was that mother and father seemed to do to each other… and quite often, both seemed greatly pleased by it, especially mother, who would often latch onto father for hours afterwards, simply holding on to him.

So, whatever father was doing, it was working. And the three sisters were happy that mother was happy. And now that father was finally doing right by mother, the three sisters could return their concentration back to their purpose, the reason for their being.

Flame. Wind. Water. All would obey them, and the land of the living would soon perish in the glow of the eternal coldness that awaited everyone at the end of all things.

XXX

"Run! Merrin… Run!" his father roared. Behind him came the wailing screams of his mother.

Merrin flew out of the window, rolling as he hit the ground. He got up to his feet and ran. That was all he could do. Looking over his shoulder, he cried out in horror as the cabin burst into flames. A large blush of fiery death shot up into the night sky and the terrifying cries of those who had been trapped inside soared through the wind.

Collapsing to his knees, Merrin held his head in his hands and doubled over in anguish as the terrible stench of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. He heaved and limped forward, vomiting. His mother. His father. Both were dead. Both had been consumed by the hellfire that had rained down upon them from nowhere.

There was a war about, but this was worse. It came without warning. The ashen logs in the fire pit had burst to life on their own accord, sending liquid hot flames spurting all over the room. Merrin could have sworn that as the burning death and danced about the room, claiming everything in sight, that a malicious laugh had filled the night air. It had only been a moment, and then his father was grabbing him and tossing him out the window, telling him to run.

And that was the last thing that poor young Merrin had seen or heard of his parents. But he could smell them. And the stench was horrifying. The wind rustled through the trees, but nothing was powerful enough to stop the inferno as it ripped apart his home and his life. He crumpled over and mourned loudly for the loss of his parents. His kind mother and his fearless father. They had both sacrificed themselves to save him.

As he pushed himself up to his feet, determination crossed his brow and he pursed his lips together. Only one person could help him. The magic against the magic. And that was the Lord Rahl.

XXX

"Richard?"

He opened his eyes with a yawn and looked up at a gorgeous sight. Kahlan was leaning over him, her beautiful lush hair cascading down around her face. Gently, he reached up and pushed it back, revealing more of her creamy white skin. Her cheeks visibly blushed at his touch and an adorable smile worked its way onto her lips. Tangling his fingers into her hair, Richard grabbed her head and pulled her down toward him. She gave him no resistance and met him halfway.

When their lips connected, Richard could not help but moan internally. He could faintly smell the sweet perfume she had used in her hair the other night when they were drying off from their bath—spirits, how he had enjoyed last night—and smelling it now, only seemed to result in making him even more amorously inclined. His heartbeat seemed to increase and his pulse raced. Spirits, what this woman did to him!

Kahlan ended the kiss all to early, separating from him, dancing her delicate fingers along his jaw. Suddenly Richard felt a jolt and he blinked, pushing up. Kahlan laughed softly as his eyebrows rose in worry and his brow creased in confusion. Looking around, he soon realized that he was still in the carriage. He turned back to Kahlan questioningly, his mouth slightly ajar.

Giggling softly, Kahlan ran her hand along the side of his face, smiling sweetly. "You overslept, my Richard," she murmured softly, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

A lazy smiled formed on his lips as he remembered the only reason that would have made him oversleep. "It was good, wasn't it?" he asked, a boyish prideful smirk working it's way onto his lips and meeting his eyes as he gazed up at her, watching as she blushed.

"Yes," Kahlan smiled coyly, then eased down onto the cushions besides him, leaning against his shoulder. "Yes, it was… very much."

Richard arched his neck over the sideboards of the carriage and saw the line of mounted men and some infantry around them. A fine dust picked up into the wind as the large force moved further and further east, towards D'Hara and the People's Palace. He caught sight of the blond-haired lieutenant.

Zimmer pulled the reins of his horse and brought the beastie up along side the carriage, inclining his head, offering his Lord Rahl and Lady Rahl a good morning. Kahlan smiled languidly and thanked him. Shifting on the pillows in the carriage, Richard put an arm around Kahlan's waist as she buried herself deeper into his shoulder.

"How are we doing, Lieutenant Zimmer?" Richard asked.

"Fine, my Lord," Zimmer nodded his head. "I have some men scouting ahead, we should reach the slopes of the mountains by midday."

"Then we'll be in D'Hara soon," Kahlan murmured.

"That is correct, Lady Rahl," Zimmer inclined his head, in both respect and confirmation.

Richard nodded absently. "I'll stay here until then," he said. "Where's Zedd?"

"The Wizard is with Miss Cynthia, further ahead," Zimmer said. "Everyone is fine, Lord Rahl. All of us agree that you needed some sleep, and to be honest, Lady Rahl wouldn't let us wake you."

Richard chuckled and turned to look at Kahlan who smiled guiltily. "Well, I did keep you up late last night," she whispered back, only so that he could hear.

Half smirking, he turned back to the lieutenant. "That would be all, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Zimmer gave a crisp nod, then whipped his reins and turned his horse away, galloping ahead of them.

When the lieutenant was out of earshot, Richard turned to Kahlan and raised an eyebrow. " _Lady Rahl_?" he questioned.

Kahlan gave a soft shrug. "It's harder for some of the D'Harans to call me  _Mother Confessor_ ," she said. "I don't mind. After all, I am the Lady Rahl…," and then she added, almost in a husky wanton voice, " _Lord Rahl_."

"Yes," Richard nodded, turning his body so she could ease more into him. He reached up and brushed his fingers through her long dark hair. "A fact that never ceases to amaze me. I honestly do not know what I have done to deserve you."

"Oh… I don't know," Kahlan sighed playfully, hooking an arm around his neck. "Saved the world a couple of times."

"Yeah, maybe that," Richard grinned, and then closed his eyes as she leaned forward and kissed him softly.

Suddenly she yelped, and it wasn't from one of the bumps along the road. Richard looked at her worriedly, until he saw the warm smile spread across her lips. She grabbed his hand and brought it to the swell of her belly. His heart warmed and his eyes brightened.

"Daphne's been kicking all morning," Kahlan beamed.

Richard grinned. "She'll be a fighter," he commented, glancing back up into Kahlan's brilliant blue eyes. "Just like her mother." He spread his fingers over Kahlan's enlarged middle, then leaned forward, bringing his other hand up to hold her jaw as he kissed her. "You're both amazing," he murmured into her lips as they shared the same air. "I love you. Both of you."

XXX

Cara stepped out onto the battlements, stretching her stiff muscles from the vigorous activities of the previous night. As she reached the crenellation, the Mord'Sith crossed her arms and glanced out at the endless sea of the vile filth that was the Imperial Order. She could hear footsteps behind her and a small smile touched her lips as she sense him walk up behind her.

His presence was more reassuring than it should be for a Mord'Sith. She was trained to never develop attachments, but that had been before Richard, before Kahlan, and, yes, even before Zedd. How she missed the old wizard's annoyingly amusing sense of humor! She missed them all, but her heart wanted to be here, despite the risks and danger. Cara needed to be here. Never in her entire life could she remember following her heart over what was her duty. She let out a faint sigh of irritation. Richard and Kahlan had gotten to her; there was no denying it. Somehow, the two of them had combined forces to turn her soft and pliable, making her ripe for the plucking.

Oh, and plucked she'd been, by a very skillful plucker. Captain Benjamin Meiffert was unlike any other man she had ever been with. Cara had had lovers before, both male and female, and Benjamin was an amazing lover, but it was more than just that. It was something that Cara found difficult to put into words or even into coherent thought.

Cara had been trying to deal with these feelings she was developing for the D'Haran captain for some time now, and, to be perfectly honest, she wasn't quite sure what the next step was. She knew that she liked him—liked him a lot—maybe could even use that love word that Richard and Kahlan bounce back and forth like a ball on a string, but she was unsure if she was fully ready to admit that, even if she had already said the words. Benjamin had told her the he loved her and she had said the words back, but at the time, she really didn't know if she did. But now… spirits, now she was more convinced that she did.

Taking a quick breath, she sniffed the air as he came closer. Spirits, she could literally smell his scent, that intoxicating mixture of musk and sweat. Cara frowned out at the vast horde before her. Her thoughts should be on how the small detachment that had remained would fend them off, but instead she was thinking about Benjamin. She grumbled under her breath. She'd have to admit it. She was in love.

As far as she knew, Cara was perhaps the first Mord'Sith to truly fall in love with a man. In this new world that had been created by Richard accepting the title of Lord Rahl—not to mention the influence of his wife, the Mother Confessor—the Mord'Sith had been liberated from their bonds of servitude and everything had been turned upside down. Some of her other Sisters of the Agiel had taken this new freedom to bed many a man of the combined D'Haran-Aydindril army, but that was different from what Cara was doing. Her fellow Mord'Sith only did what they did out of need for sexual release and pleasure, not to mention the new freedom they had in that regard.

For Cara, on the other hand, when she shared her bed with Captain Meiffert it was for entirely different reasons. She had been around Richard and Kahlan long enough before she had even met the young captain that she had stopped thinking of sex as merely a form of physical pleasure and more as a way to be more intimate and closer to another. Cara had relapsed with Dahlia. But that had been a minor bump in the road to her recovery of her humanity. With Captain Meiffert… with Benjamin, she could be herself. She never had to hide anything with him. He accepted her as she was, and never asked for more.

Feeling his presence as he drifted closer, Cara risked a sidelong glance to look upon his handsome features. He was gazing out at the field before them. "An unholy sight, that is," Meiffert muttered under his breath.

Folding her arms across her chest, hearing the red leather creak and groan, Cara nodded. "Yes," she concurred. "I have never seen such a sight. Even when Darken Rahl was waging his war against the Midlands."

Meiffert inclined his head, stepping up to the edge of the crenellation and peering down at the vast army camp on the horizon. "It's been two weeks since the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor made their escape, yet the Order has yet to attack."

Cara looked up at him, catching her breath at the sight of his features as the sunlight hit his face at just the right angle. Stifling the flush that wanted to manifest on her cheeks, Cara inched closer and placed her hands on the stone, following Meiffert's gaze. Just off in the distance, on top of a low hill, they could make out the command tent of the enemy force. The tall sloped canvas and the fluttering red and yellow banners gave it away.

"I wonder what they're planning," Meiffert murmured his thoughts out loud. "Nothing good, I suspect."

She hooked her neck and looked over at him, smiling at the way his eyebrows knitted together as he thought. "Whatever it is," Cara spoke up. "We'll show them that D'Harans are not easily pushed over." She then surprised herself by moving her hand and placing it over his.

A small smile touched Meiffert's lips at her gesture and he glanced up, locking eyes with her. "We'll show them that… together, my love."

XXX

Verna had no qualms about showing her dislike for the barren plains they now found themselves in. It seemed to stretch on forever once they descended the mountains. She'd traveled most of the Midlands in her long search for Richard Rahl, and not once had she crossed over the mountains into the land that was D'Hara. As she allowed her eyes to wander over the barrenness of it all, she felt a strange sense of disappointment.  _This_  was Richard's birthright?

There had been some forest, yes, but they had been small and in between. The majority of what she'd seen had been nothing but low lying brush and tall brown grass. Verna swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very nauseated. Despite the annoyance of it, she actually smiled, remembering when the Mother Confessor had gone through this phase. She pulled on the reins of her horse, bringing it to a stop as she doubled over.

It was odd, really, purging oneself while sitting atop a horse. It wasn't that much, she'd actually not been that hungry during the past couple of days, which worried her husband. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she sat back up and arched her neck, looking over her shoulder to see him looking at her with concern. Warren did not think she was eating enough and chided her often. Kicking his legs around his mount, he trotted up beside her and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

"Are you alright, Verna?" he inquired. "Do we need to stop?"

"No, I'm fine," she assured him, smiling softly as he pulled his mount closer to hers so that he could cup her face in his hand. He leaned over and kissed her lightly.

" _Ahem_!" came the all too familiar sound of the prophet clearing his throat.

Verna and Warren separated; she made a sound of disappointment and turned a heated gaze over at the old prophet, angered at his interruption of her kiss with her husband. "What is it, Nathan?"

"The People's Palace is in sight," he informed them. "And if you too are dong necking…," he chuckled under his breath. "We should be able to make it to the lower gates before nightfall."

Tom, the D'Haran soldier that Richard had sent with them was positioned behind the crafty prophet, but he had the good sense to avert his eyes when Verna looked over at him. She narrowed her eyes and glanced upwards, seeing the tall sand colored minarets and towers in the distance.

The palace itself, sat up high on a plateau that over looked the Azrith plains. In the afternoon sun it seemed to glimmer as if it was the only beacon of hope left in the world. Verna sighed sadly to herself as the group hitched their mounts around and encouraged them onwards. She found herself thinking that perhaps it was the only hope left in the world. They had heard that Aydindril had been evacuated, and that Richard and Kahlan were currently following some distance behind them as they made their way to D'Hara and the People's Palace as well.

It seemed that it would be here, at the stronghold built ages ago by Alric Rahl, where the fate of all would be decided.

XXX

Sister Bree let out a long fatigued sigh as she sat up on the makeshift bed. It had been almost a month, maybe more—time seemed to blur together nowadays—since that evening in Hallas, where he had taken her harder and rougher than he ever had before. By the dim light that she could make out through the heavy canvas of the tent, Bree estimated that it was most likely sometime in the afternoon. She groaned, placing a hand on her head. She was still being assaulted by the worst headaches she had ever had… or was it the incessant beating of those blasted drums during the night?

Whatever it was, Bree had not yet grown used to it. Last night had been particularly hard. The Emperor had been angry, having learned that she had shed the child that had started to grow in her. She gritted her teeth, disgusted at the prospect of carrying that monster's child. Before, when she had access to more of her magic, it had been easier to prevent conception, but now, with the Chimes reeking havoc on the world of magic, Bree had to content herself with getting rid of any vile things that developed after she noticed the signs.

She'd done it two times before that she could remember. Most of her time with the Emperor had begun to blur together. Bree had begun to wish she had stayed away and not returned after having set Cynthia loose on the Lord Rahl. But then she had lost the Mother Confessor to Sister Nicci and that Mord'Sith. And then all her planning had come for naught. Nothing had worked out as she had intended. She had come back to the Order because she thought that they might have a chance of ridding the world of the self-righteous fools that were the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor.

But now she was unsure about her plan. Bree now believed she should have stayed away from the Order, as best as she could. While here she was nothing less than a plaything for the Emperor. Sure, he sometimes talked sweetly to her and claimed he liked her above all others… she laughed glumly. "My special one" is what he'd began calling her, like she was some willingly blushing bride who longed for his embrace.

Standing up awkwardly, using her hands to steady herself, Bree reached over and picked up the silk see-through robe he had been so kind to give her. Rolling her eyes, she pulled it over her shoulders and gritted her teeth at the ache between her legs. He had made her bleed last night. A punishment, is what he called it, for shedding the child that belonged to him. Thank the Keeper he did not know about the others she had shed.

Bree walked gingerly over to the tent flap and pulled it open, blinking in the new light. Outside the men of the Order were sitting in the muck and filth that seemed to follow them wherever they went. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, almost gagging at the stench that reached her nostrils. Coughing, she shook and tugged the robe tighter around her slender frame. Holding a hand over her eyes, she looked out at the tall walls on the horizon. Aydindril. Suddenly a sad smile almost manifested on her lips.

She knew.

It would fall.

Soon.


	35. D'Hara

Kahlan woke in the carriage with a start. Around her, the world seemed to rock a little more than usual. Blinking, she shivered as a chilly breeze ran across her form. Even tucked down in the warm comfortable cushions and pillows on the floor of the carriage, the bitterly cold wind still managed to touch her with icy fingertips. Sitting up, she wrapped her green blanket tighter around her shoulders and squinted out at the scenery.

It was getting dark, the sun was setting, but she could still make out the scattering of rocks and the tall trees that swayed in the breeze. The scents of pine and evergreen drifted through the air, and she even caught scent of the aroma of a certain flower, one that only grew in one place.

"D'Hara," she mumbled softly to herself. "We've crossed over into D'Hara."

Sure enough, as she turned her head to look forward she could see, long off in the distance—it would take them more hours than they had left to get there—the long desolate plains of D'Hara. They were still in the mountain pass, having reached the western slopes of the mountain range at midmorning. Richard was riding out ahead with Lieutenant Zimmer and Zedd. Cynthia and Ruthy were riding not far from her, and Kahlan looked around and spotted them with Rikka and some of the Mord'Sith. For a moment she felt guilty about having ridden comfortably in the carriage and taking a nap while the others did not have that luxury. But then her hand fell to the swell of her belly, and she allowed herself to be excused of such guilt.

Cynthia noticed that she was awake and snapped the reins of her horse. Kahlan could not help but smile at the look of sisterly concern and love that flashed over her twin's face. They had hardly really known each other for that long, but somehow that bond that all twins supposedly shared—at least that is what Zedd had told her—seemed to have started to resonate between her and Cynthia.

"How was your nap, Kahlan?" Cynthia asked as her horse reached the carriage, she pulled the reins and slowed it to a trot to match the speed of the wheeled vehicle.

Kahlan ran her hands over her swollen belly. "Good," she nodded. "I feel better, and Daphne's not restless like she was earlier."

Cynthia smiled softly, and averted her eyes. "I like that name," she murmured quietly. "It's pretty."

"Thanks," Kahlan smiled back at her sister. She raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you're ready to become an aunt?"

"An aunt?" Cynthia blanched for a moment. "Dear me… I… I hadn't thought of that." She chuckled softly to hide her embarrassment, and Kahlan noticed that Cynthia brushed her fingers through her hair in a very similar manner in which she herself did. "To be honest, I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I have a sister… and a twin at that!"

"As am I, Cynthia," Kahlan commented. "Though, I can't think of a better twin to have."

Cynthia blushed. "Oh, now you have me all blushing," she said.

"Why don't you ride in the carriage with me for a bit," Kahlan offered. "I can tell the driver to stop for a moment."

"No, that's all right," Cynthia assured her. "Richard said that we'd probably stop soon. He said something about the mountains giving better cover than those open plains below."

Kahlan nodded, a little surprised she had not thought of that. All her focus seemed to be on the baby. "Yes… that is a good idea," she mumbled on her breath, silently admonishing herself for not thinking of that earlier.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the loud pounding of hooves on the gravel path that the large force of D'Haran soldiers and Mord'Sith were moving along. Kahlan arched her neck, keeping her hands on her swollen belly as she looked right, smiling slightly as she saw Richard on top of a galloping black stallion heading straight for them. He pulled the reins to slow the gallop to a trot and the horse snorted in response, bucking its head a bit in annoyance.

A silly lopsided grin covered Richard's face as he maneuvered the irritated stallion up alongside the carriage. "And how is the most beautiful woman in the three territories doing this evening?" he inquired, his eyes locked on her.

Kahlan blushed at the endearment and played with the ends of her hair. "How can you call me beautiful when I'm so  _huge_?" she asked, running her other hand over her large swollen belly.

"Well, I'm the Seeker of Truth, Kahlan," he smirked. "And someone once told me that the Seeker of Truth does not tell lies, and only tells the truth."

"Oh and I wonder who that was," Kahlan asked, exchanging an amused look with Cynthia.

Richard played along and gave a shrug. "I don't know," he said. "But whoever she was, she was very beautiful." He then leaned over as if to lower his voice conspiratorially. "And rumor has it she's carrying my daughter."

Kahlan blushed as Richard pulled his annoyed horse closer to the carriage, allowing him to reach out and cup her face in his strong hand as he kissed her softly. She closed her eyes savoring his kiss, realizing for the first time how much she'd simply missed his presence by her side during the day. When he pulled back, Richard gave her a smile and wink, as if making promises of more pleasures to come.

The carriage came to a stop and Richard's stallion gave him a very annoyed snort, which the Seeker took as a signal to dismount.

"Are we stopping here?" Kahlan asked, hearing the sounds of metal armor clang and leather creak as men and Mord'Sith alike dismounted from their horses.

Richard looked up at her as he gripped the bridle on Cynthia's horse as she climbed down. "Yes," he said. "Zedd and Lieutenant Zimmer found a clearing up ahead that provides some room for the carriage."

A foot soldier came running up, taking the reins of the horse from the Lord Rahl, as Richard climbed up onto the front of the carriage and dismissed the driver. The man nodded and slipped off, bowing his head to Kahlan. She shifted in the back of the carriage as Cynthia pulled herself up from the back to join her. A small smile touched her lips as her sister sat down next to her and Kahlan could not resist the urge to hug her as up front her husband grabbed the reins and whipped them, causing the horses to whinny and trot on.

Richard maneuvered the carriage off to the side. Kahlan and Cynthia, sharing a blanket, watched from the back as they moved passed the soldiers and Mord'Sith, whom were preparing camp. The ground was bumpy and then smoothed out as the hit soft dirt. Kahlan looked up at the sparkling stars and closed her eyes, breathing in the scents of pine trees and wild flowers. The wind was gently, yet it was still rather cold.

The clearing that Zedd and Lieutenant Zimmer had found was secluded and there was several rock formations and trees the hid it from the mountain pass. The old wizard and the lieutenant were waiting there, already starting up a fire. As Richard pulled the reins, slowing the horses down, and bringing the carriage to a halt, Kahlan smiled out at Zedd.

The First Wizard grinned and made a grand gesture, trying to show off how he was actually making an effort to start a fire without Wizard's Fire. Kahlan laughed softly watching as the tall man bent down on his knees and frantically rubbed the sticks together as Lieutenant Zimmer merely shook his head in exacerbation, his helmet tucked into the crook of his arm.

Soon Richard was at the back of the carriage, helping Cynthia down. Kahlan watched as her sister went over to stand by Zedd, watching with amusement as the old wizard tried to start a fire without magic. Chuckling softly, Kahlan scooted over to the edge, and accepted Richard's proffered hand. He smiled and gripped her hand tightly as he helped her down out of the carriage.

Once her feet were on solid ground, he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her. His hands moved up her back and became entangled in her long tresses as he leaned forward and kissed her slow and deeply. Kahlan closed her eyes and moaned into his mouth. When they backed away for breath, Richard chuckled softly and ran one of his hands along the swell of her belly.

"How are my two favorite girls doing?" he inquired.

"Better, now that  _we_  are in your arms, my Richard," she murmured in reply. "Have… have you been able to remember more?"

He sighed and shook his head, his hands coming up to brush along the sides of her face, his warm brown eyes staring deeply into her brilliant blues. "No," he spoke sadly, resting his forehead against hers. His lips curved downward for a moment before turning back up. "But at least I have you… without you, Kahlan, I rather fear that I am nothing."

"Oh, you're not nothing, Richard," Kahlan reassured him, running one hand up and down his chest as she placed the other on his cheek. "Please believe me when I say that. You may not have many memories, but you remember the Mord'Sith, how they were before?"

He nodded.

She smiled softly. "Then you know what good you have done," Kahlan told him. "Without you, the Mord'Sith would still be detestable women who live only to serve the whims of their master. But thanks to you—"

"And  _you_ ," he interjected with a smile, giving her a quick chaste kiss on the lips, silencing her for a moment.

Kahlan smiled back and continued, "They are now free and starting to regain their humanity." She paused and eased into him. "Just think of Cara, look at how much she's grown because of you…," she stopped the movement of her hand and placed it over his heart and added, "because of  _us_. She is finally becoming human once more. And she is following her heart. Cara… Richard…  _Cara_  has fallen in love with Captain Meiffert."

Richard chuckled as she chuckled. The very idea of that particular Mord'Sith falling in love was almost absurd, but it was true. She had seen the look in the Mord'Sith's eyes when she looked at the D'Haran captain. And she had seen the sparkle in Meiffert's eyes when he looked at Cara. Richard turned and hooked his neck to look down at Kahlan, whose head was resting against his chest.

"Yes," he nodded, inclining his head to kiss the top of her head and brushing his fingers through her long silky hair. "I know. And it makes me happy. It means that everything I've done, even those parts I can't remember, can make a difference, can change things."

Kahlan leaned back and looked up at him, nodding. Her eyes were a bit watery and she smiled up at him. "You are a rare person, Richard Rahl," she asserted. "And don't you ever forget that."

"Ha! YES!" came the chortle of the First Wizard.

Kahlan chuckled softly and looked over at Richard's grandfather…  _her_  grandfather. He was family. Just like the woman who looked exactly liked her, who was standing by the old wizard's side, laughing along with him as the flames began to take shape. Rikka, Kahlan ever-faithful Mord'Sith bodyguard—and friend—was right there as well. She was shaking her heard, but, just the same, wore a small smile of amusement. Richard hugged her tight and laughed along.

"See!" the old wizard laugh, shaking his head and gesturing at Lieutenant Zimmer. "I told you a wizard could make a fire without Wizard's Fire."

Lieutenant Zimmer smirked and shook his head. "Then I stand corrected, sir wizard," he said.

XXX

"You really should take it easy, Verna," Warren protested as she strolled purposefully down the corridor.

"We have business here, Warren," Verna almost snapped, but then faltered in her steps. She cursed the nausea and tried to right herself. Reaching out, she placed a hand on the wall for support.

"Are you all right?" Warren yelped with concern.

Despite the turmoil in her stomach, she had to smile at his worrying. Taking a slow and deep breath, Verna steadied herself and looked up at her worrying husband. She straightened and reached up to place a hand on the side of his face, trying to reassure him.

"I'm alright, my love," she murmured softly, gazing into his cerulean eyes. "I just… I just am not used to this." She sighed and looked away, slightly ashamed as she wrapped one arm around her middle. "To be honest, Warren… I… I never thought that I'd ever get to have a child."

Her husband softened and brought up a hand to place over hers. "Well, you're doing amazing, Verna," he told her, very sincerely and genuine, as he always was. His hand dropped and he spread his palm over her belly, which had yet to show signs of her condition. "You just need to learn to allow others to help you. You don't have to carrying this burden all by yourself." He paused, bringing his hand up to her face, holding her jaw gently as he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'm here, Verna. I'm here, and I'm ready and willing to obey your commands."

Before she could say anything, Warren ushered her into the shadows of the tall pillars along the corridor and pressed her up against the wall. She smiled and let out a light laugh, remembering him doing very much the same thing before they made love for the first time. Her heart skipped and her cheeks flushed as she remembered that wonderful evening. Warren was unlike any other lover she had ever had. He was kind and gentle with her, yet still had a passion and intensity that always left her breathless and even, to her eternal mortification, had her whimpering and moaning for more.

Verna had grown used to the stern firm face she had put up to the world. It had been her mask, just as the confessor's mask had been a shield for the Mother Confessor. But with Warren, dear Creator, Warren melted the stern Sister of the Light, and brought out the young woman she had once been.

His lips collided with hers and she moaned softly, looping her arms around his neck and digging her fingers into his curly blond hair. Warren hoisted her up a bit against the wall, and his lips blazoned a hot trail down her jaw and throat. His nuzzled against the spot where her neck met her shoulder and Verna shuddered in pleasure as one of his hands moving up to cup her breasts.

"Oh, Warren," she whimpered to her shame. She was pudding in Warren's hands.

Closing her eyes, Verna basked in the feel of him touching her. Though she had lovers before him, when her body had been younger and more flexible, no one had loved her as Warren did. He didn't mind her not so silky skin or not so tight firm body. In fact, he only seemed to love her more. He made her feel like that again, when she was young… No! She shook her head, panting softly; he made her feel better than that! Warren made her feel attractive and desirable—not just physically, but intellectually as well. Both were desirable traits she had feared she'd lost during her twenty-year search for Richard Rahl. And Warren loved her in a way that made her forget all but him moving above her, beside her, behind her, in her. He was everywhere and he loved her… loved her despite her faults, her doubts, and her worries.

His lips met hers again and Verna simply gave in to him, allowing him to love her. She let go of her insecurities and worries, and was just simple Verna. She was there. She allowed herself to just be. To just exist in that moment and enjoy what little small intimacies and pleasures she could grasp in this upside down world they found themselves in.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled them away from each other and Verna sucked in a breath, her chest heaving, as she glanced over Warren's shoulder and saw the tall regal figure of the prophet. Nathan's azure eyes appraised then with the infamous Rahl gaze, but there was something else in those eyes, something Verna had never thought she'd see. He looked almost happy, as if he was happy for them.

" _Ahem_ ," he cleared his throat again, and Verna blinked, suddenly realizing that Warren's hand was still softly caressing her breast.

Bringing her hands around, she placed one on his shoulder and the other on his face. " _Warren_ ," she whispered softly with a nod of her head.

He turned his head around and caught the prophet gazing over at them. "Oh… um," he redden with embarrassment and quickly removed his hand from her breast, stepping back and adjusting his robes. Verna sighed and did the same, giving the prophet a death glare for interrupting one of the few and preciously rare moments of closeness she had had with her husband since all this madness had begun.

"Was I interrupting something?" Nathan brazenly asked with a raise of a silver eyebrow.

Warren, who was still adjusting his wizard's robes—which Verna knew was an attempt to hide what she had felt pressing up against her thigh—so she took the lead. She huffed and crossed her arms under her breasts.

"As a matter of fact, yes!" she heatedly said, narrowing her eyes at the prophet.

Nathan smirked. "Next time, get a room," he winked. "But now that the mood has been thoroughly killed, why don't you two join me?"

"Join you? Where?" Warren squawked in high-pitched voice, still trying to hide his desire for his wife. His cheeks were flushed and his eyebrows were knitting together.

"The library, of course," Nathan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

"Library?" hooted Verna, giving Nathan a strong, yet disapproving stern look.

She was still dubious about his association with them. It had been his arrival that had started some terrible things for Richard and Kahlan during the nights of the Red Moon. It wasn't necessarily his fault, he was a prophet, and prophets only relayed the messages. That's what the Prelate had called prophets, the Creator's Messengers.

Verna placed her hands on her hips as the prophet merely looked at her with a startled face. "We've already been to the library, you stupid old man," she harrumphed. "Jennsen and that Mord'Sith are still there."

"Oh yes, Nyda. She mentioned another library," Nathan said, being particularly vague.

Warren finally seemed to settle down, though he looked unhappy about it. Verna didn't blame him, she had been liking where their little impromptu intimacy had been heading, even if it had just turned into a rough quickie, she wouldn't have complained. She longed to be one with him again, but her condition had made her fatigued and irritable, not really providing them with many opportunities to be one as husband and wife.

"What sort of library is this, then?" Warren asked, stepping up, his hand clasped together in front of him. He managed to sound polite despite his countenance, which spoke to the contrary.

Nathan raised his Rahl eyebrows and his azure eyes skirted away, looking down the long corridors. "This palace was built by my ancestors," he pontificated, raising his arms wide. "And if there is one thing Rahls value most above all else, it's knowledge."

"Tell that to the last Rahl who inhabited this palace," Verna snapped with a bitterness that surprised even herself. Having been in the Midlands for twenty years in search of Richard, she and her two companion Sisters of the Light, had witnessed many of the atrocities that Darken Rahl had ordered and seen carried out, not just on the Midlanders, but his own D'Haran people. "The Rahls only cared about power."

"Untrue," Nathan defended his lineage. "It was Alric Rahl who founded our house on noble grounds. Our bloodline is meant to save the people of the New World."

Verna harrumphed. "Again, I point to Darken Rahl, the last Master of D'Hara. He was far from being a kind-hearted benevolent lord."

"His acts pale in comparison to those of the Imperial Order, my dear," Nathan said, his voice growing firm and serious. He looked at her with that damn hard Rahl raptor gaze and she faltered, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. "Least you forget, but I am a Rahl… as is Richard."

Averting her eyes, she stepped closer to Warren.

"Then  _please_  stop speaking in riddles and half truths, Nathan," she replied sharply, yet in a softer voice than before. " _Please_ … Speak plainly!"

Nathan sighed. It was a deep sigh, one that belied his true age and weariness despite his ferocious and sometimes sharp wit. "The knowledge, I spoke of, is not that of books, but of wisdom. Wisdom given to us by those who came before," he spoke softly, his eyes gazing off, as if looking into the distant past. "Our ancestors built this place, this world. Because of them, we are who we are. If we do not understand the past, then we are doomed to repeat their mistakes… and their failures."

"What are you talking about?" Warren asked, exchanging a look with Verna. She nodded in agreement and awaited the prophet's answer.

"Legends, young prophet," Nathan said, a wicked smile cracking his face as he slapped a hand on Warren's shoulder. "I'm talking about legends."


	36. Warmth

The fire popped and small embers floated up in the soft breeze. Kahlan shivered and shifted closer to Richard. He sighed, his breath visible in the cold air as he wrapped his arm around her, holding her tight. Rikka, along with some of her fellow Mord'Sith, sat across from them, sharing a blanket with Cynthia. Kahlan looked at them and smiled, liking how her friend was becoming fast friends with her twin sister. The two seemed to be chatting aimlessly about something. She could not tell what it was, the crackling of the fire obscuring their words.

Zedd and Lieutenant Zimmer were talking about the best way to start a fire, and Ruthy, ever the maidservant, was tending to the fire and keeping it hot. A light bit of snow flurries had started to fall twenty minutes after they had eaten, and Kahlan was discovering that the warmth the meal had provided was rapidly dissolving away in the chilly breeze and dropping temperatures.

"Kahlan?" Richard shivered beside her. "Are… are you warm enough?"

A chill ran down her spine and she blew out a puff of air, watching as it rose above her. "To… to tell you the truth," her teeth chattering. "No… not really."

She more felt than saw Richard swallowing hard. Suddenly there was an opening between them and the cold wind hit her side. Kahlan clutched her eyes tight and she wrapped her green blanket tighter around her shivering frame. Then she felt his strong arms around her and she was being lifted off the cold hard ground. Blinking, she looked up and saw him shouldering her weight, and grunting slightly.

"Richard," she shifted, wrapping an arm around his neck to help him. "I'm not an invalid. I… I can walk."

"Shh," he whispered. He looked up at the others, who had stopped their separate discussions when he had stood. "I'm taking her someplace warm," he declared and then turned, walking away before Kahlan could register if anyone had acknowledged his statement.

The small patches of snow that had gathered around their camp crunched under Richard's feet as he carried her along. Kahlan narrowed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, figuring that he was going to take her to the carriage and wrap her up tightly in all the blankets and cushions there. Preparing herself for when he'd put her down so that he could then help her up the back steps and into the carriage, Kahlan let out a startled noise when he took her right past the carriage and into the trees.

"Uh? Richard, where are you taking me?" Kahlan questioned, completely and utterly baffled. Her nose crunched up as she peered out into the dark shadows of the trees.

"Someplace warm," was all he said.

Kahlan remained silent, placing her ear against his warm chest and simply listened to the strong beat of his heart. It was steady and the rhythm of it was very soothing to her soul. Kahlan closed her eyes and faded for a moment. It was the sound of rustling tree boughs and the soft sounds of a small fire crackling that awoke her. Looking around, she found herself underneath a tree. It was dim, with only the light from the small fire. Blinking, Kahlan gasped and a soft smile touched her lips.

"A wayward pine?" it was both a question and a statement.

"Yes," came his voice, and she shifted on the soft pine needle covered ground, finding her green blanket spread underneath her. He was kneeling by the fire, tending to it, his handsome features bathing in the warm glow. He smiled over at her. "It's the reason we stopped here," he said, as if explaining. "Zedd and I were riding out ahead and I spotted it from the clearing. I knew it would be best for you… and our baby."

Suddenly he was beside her, making Kahlan blink in confusion. How had he gotten so close? Was she fading in and out so easily? He looked down at her with his warm brown eyes and Kahlan let out a slow contented breath with the love and desire she saw in his eyes. Slowly his hand moved and he was touching her forehead.

"Are you cold?"

"Mmm?" she hummed, and shook her head. "Just a little, but I'm warming."

It was true, and it was not just the comfortable seclusion of the wayward pine or the small fire, but something else; something that burned deep within her, something that only Richard could awake and stir to a fiery blaze.

"Thanks to you," she added, looking up at him and giving him a sultry smile, asking for things she had believed he'd promised earlier with that kiss before they had stopped for the night. "You know what, Lord Rahl… it might warm me even more if you removed your shirt."

Richard smirked and chuckled, shaking his head. "It's far too cold for that, Kahlan," he said, causing her to think her hopes of a little fun in the wayward pine was just wishful thinking. But then, his hand moved from her forehead and skirted along the side of her face and across her jaw.

His fingers danced down her neck, and her breath began to hitch as his palm spread out on her shoulder. She flirted her eyes up and looked up at him, a tiny smile touching her lips. "Yes?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed, then leaned down and captured her mouth with his, kissing her with a heated passion that warmed all her body. His hand slipped down and he cradled one of her full breasts in his hands. He judged the weight of it for a bit and hummed into her mouth. "I can see our daughter will not lack for sustenance."

Kahlan giggled and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Well, right now,  _they're_  all yours, my Richard," she purred into his mouth. "So why don't you take some time and enjoy  _them_."

He smiled at her and swept her up in a sweet kiss, his hands pulling her slightly off the blanket as he brought her closer. Kahlan closed her eyes and opened her mouth to him, their tongues touching and igniting every new avenue of pleasure that seemed available to her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers teasing the hair on the back of his head.

Easing her back down onto the blanket that covered the floor, Richard backed away, moving his kissed to her throat. She groaned and arched her neck to give him more access, as he made a move to shift over her. Mid-stride Richard froze and his hand dropped onto her swollen belly. Kahlan let out a frustrated groan, as he turned and laid down beside her, he was unable to fully move over her as she wished.

"Shh, it's okay, Kahlan," Richard attempted to reassure her, kissing her cheek and neck as he ran a hand along the side of her face.

Turning to look at him, her eyes watery and desperate, she was startled to see the hunger in his eyes had not diminished. Kahlan blinked, taken off guard by the sheer amount of desire swimming in his warm brown eyes. How could he find her so desirable when her belly was so… so  _huge_!

He kissed her shoulder and rubbed his hand down her neck, slinking it under the neckline. When his fingertips touched her bare flesh that was hidden under her blouse, Kahlan's cheeks warmed and flushed. His hand dipped further down, exploring her chest, digging deeper into her blouse. His spread out palm soon found her breast and he smoothed his fingers over her soft flesh, teasing her nipple with his thumb before he wrapped his fingers around her, holding her breast gently in his large hand.

Richard's lips continued to kiss her neck and soon his nose was nuzzling against her, pushing some of the fabric of her blouse away from her shoulder. He kissed her skin lightly, it felt warm and soft, like butterfly wings. His hand didn't caress or knead into her breast, he simply held it, and for some reason, Kahlan found she liked that, just to have his hand holding her like that.

She let out a soft breath, enjoying his kisses, when suddenly she found he was moving her, turning her onto her side, her back towards him. Her brow furrowed, confused. Then the dawning of understanding lit her eyes and she beamed, as his hand began to softly knead and massage her breast. His other hand moved down her side and rested on her hip. Kahlan flushed with arousal as she felt him ease into her, bringing his chest to her back and wiggling his hips against her backside.

Kahlan let out a small delightful yelp when she felt his desire for her. It was stronger than she had thought it would be, considering her current appearance and the vastness of her belly. As if he was reading her thoughts, Richard shifted and pulled her closer, pressing his pelvis into her soft posterior, making her moan throatily.

"Never doubt my desire for you, Kahlan," he purred huskily into her ear. "Never."

"Oh, Richard," she arched her neck and was rewarded with a delicious kiss and had her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

When they pulled out of their kiss, Kahlan was visibly aware at how hot she had become, not to mention how moist she had grown between her thighs. Richard's hand on her hip moved and he was pushing her skirt up, his fingers running along her bare legs. She shivered and moaned softly, suddenly blushing with the realization that if she were too loud the others would hear her cries of ecstasy when her beloved brought her over the edge.

"Richard?" she questioned softly, worried.

"We can be quiet," he said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than her.

She swallowed and smiled with a slight nod, not knowing if she could really be quiet with him inside her. Something about the way Richard made love to her made her want to be so… so vocal. Richard laughed softly, pulling her from her thoughts, and making her moan as he sucked on her neck, finding that one sensitive spot that made her toes curl.

While he teased her neck, his hand moved further up her leg, finding her supple thigh. His fingers dug into her flesh and she let out a startling loud wanton groan that shocked even herself. Richard smirked and his hand dropped away. She felt him bunch her skirts up in the back and then there was the sound of him unbuckling his trousers. She arched her neck and looked over her shoulder, casting her eyes down to watch as he came free. He didn't remove his trousers all the way, but just enough to give him room to work with.

Kahlan's eyes feasted on the sight of him and she smiled broadly, feeling a heat she knew all too well coalesce and build in her core. If she was already not dripping with anticipation, she was now. Kahlan made a mental note to get some knew underthings… but that could be dealt with later.

Richard ran his hand along her shoulder, and removed the other from her chest, making her groan in want. Even though he had not really been teasing and caressing her like he normally would have, she had enjoyed the sensation of his touch. But then she felt his fingers tugging at her underthings. She smiled, and shifted a bit, giving him the extra bit of room to pull them down. He very nearly ripped them, which, as far as Kahlan was concerned, would have been all right. After all, she was planning on acquiring new pair of underthings after this night, since she had already spoiled these with her own dripping need.

Before she could say anything, his hand was on her, spreading her pale buttocks to get at her quivering flesh. His fingers slipped down and touched her moist folds and Richard let out a low throaty groan. She could not tell whether it was a good sound or not. Then his breath was touching her neck and he nuzzled his nose into her hair. Kahlan heard him take a long sniff of her scent.

"Spirits, Kahlan, you… you're so warm and wet," Richard murmured into her hair as he took another sniff of her scent. She smirked, believing she detected a bit of surprise in his voice.

"Why? Does that surprise you?" she inquired, quirking an eyebrow up as she looked over her shoulder at his beaming face.

He shook his head. "No, not at all," he replied, smiling at her. "Though, it is nice to know that I excite you just as much as you excite me."

Kahlan laughed a breathy laugh that she thought was highly unattractive, but Richard's eyes just twinkled all the more with desire. He gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and she smirked at him. "How can this body…," she gestured to her enlarged belly, "make you so… so excited." Her eyes had darted down to see just how firm and erect he was.

Richard winked at her, not losing how her eyes had dropped to look upon him, and he rubbed his fingers along her femininity, finding her special place, which he began to vigorously stimulate. Kahlan arched her back, pushing into him as she softly panted and flushed with ever-growing need and desire. Her breath grew heavy and soon she had to fight the urge to roll her hips as his fingers began to tease her folds with promises of what was to come.

"E-eno-enough teasing, Richard…," she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering as pleasure rippled throughout her body. "I… I nee-need you… NOW!"

"Yes, Mother Confessor—" he paused and she felt him smirk against her neck. "Or should I call you,  _Lady Rahl_?"

She huffed and laughed along with him. "Kahlan would do just fine, Richard."

"All right, my Kahlan," he pushed his lips against her neck. "My precious, precious Kahlan."

She felt his hand grip her thigh and hoist it up, as his other hand maneuvered over her backside spreading her lower cheeks. She felt the heat and warmth of his desire as he scooted closer to her.

"Yes, yes, yes," she panted it like a mantra, encouraging him on to take her.

Richard moved one of his legs between hers, helping to hold up her right leg as he moved forward. Kahlan closed her eyes and let out a soft moan, trying to hold it in a much as possible, so that the others would not hear her cries of pleasure. She felt him rub his tip against her moist folds, the action only making her grow even wetter, covering and coating him in her juices. Kahlan let out a soft whimper and her body trembled slightly as he found her opening. With a grunted and kissed on the neck, Richard pushed past her folds and slid into her. Kahlan moaned in a low voice, and squeezed her inner muscles as his fullness filled her warm depth, and she smiled when her actions pulled a groan from his hot lips.

One of his hands rested on her hip, assisting in guiding the slow and steady rhythm he was setting. With each movement of him filling and then empting out of her, Kahlan's blood pulsed quicker and her breath grew moist and heavy. Richard nuzzled her neck and his mouth opened, whispering soft tender kisses along her pulse point. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes closed as his arm snaked around her, his hand finding her breast again.

"Oh, Richard," she moaned as his large hand encircled her full heavy breast, holding it firmly in his palm. He squeezed her gently as they continued to rock back and forth, his thrusts slowly reaching deeper and deeper into her core.

"I love you, Kahlan," he murmured into her ear, his breath just as moist and hot as her own. "And even though I may not have a full host of memories, I know it is the truth. Without you… I feel lost. Without you… I am nothing. You complete me, Kahlan. And I never want to let you go."

Kahlan sighed and smiled, turning her neck so that they could kiss as his fingers tightened on her hip. As their lips locked, Richard's movements became more frenetic, and he was rapidly approaching a frenzied speed that was about to make Kahlan let go. His free hand moved from her breast and went up her blouse, grabbing at the flesh underneath. Kahlan moaned, loving how he wanted contact with her skin and not just the feel of it through her clothing.

"Yes, Richard, yes," she grunted, feeling her inner muscles beginning to contract, grabbing at his fullness as he filled her.

Richard groaned into her mouth, clutching her back closer to his body as he rammed into her from behind. Kahlan whimpered and her breath caught as he touched something inside, causing her to explode. She writhed and convulsed, his arms wrapped around her as he shoved himself into the depths of her moist center. With magic suppressed by the Chimes, Kahlan felt every minute sensation that flowed through her body. Her own release was like a wave of pleasure that course through her entire being, touching every last fiber.

He groaned and moaned her name into her hair as he tensed, a blast of warmth erupting inside her. Kahlan closed her eyes, a little sad that since she was already with child he could not seed her again. It mattered little, she was positive it would happen again. Together they would bare many offspring. They would be highly fruitful.

As he released, Richard held onto her tightly, his mouth grabbing hers as she turned her head for him, giving him access to her quivering lips as her body quake and shook with each ripple of ecstasy that pumped through her veins. He pressed up into her, giving all of himself to her, and Kahlan reciprocated, pushing back and squeezing him, wanting all that was him to be in her. The euphoria of feeling him erupt inside her was something she would never get tired of. And the bliss and peace he brought to her body and her heart was always welcomed and well received.

Oh, how she'd miss this when magic was restored! Whenever they finally dealt with the Chimes and banished them back to the Underworld, returning magic to the world, Kahlan would have her confessor powers restored. And then, whenever her Richard brought her to this sweet plateau of physical pleasure, she would blackout once it peaked, temporarily fatigued by the combination of both forms of release: magical and physical.

Richard's breath was warm against her neck and Kahlan was pleasantly pleased when he did not immediately pull out of her. He simply held her tight, slowly nipping at her neck as he murmured soft words of love. Eventually, however, he slipped out of her, causing her to whimper and groan in disappointment. She always was sad when he had to leave her. His hand rubbed her thigh and he kissed her cheek, as he tugged her underthings back up.

As the warmth of his body drifted away, Kahlan turned onto her back, her cheeks still flush and hot from her release. Richard was immediately leaning over her, capturing her lips in a kiss. Pulling back, he sucked in a breath and locked eyes with her.

"I love you, Kahlan," he murmured into her mouth as he leaned back down and kissed her again, making her squirm with delight.

"I love you, too, my Richard. My sweet, sweet Richard," she purred back and then snuggled up close to him, resting her head in the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around them, helping to retain the heat of their lovemaking. She ran a hand along his chest, loving how it still heaved and how his heart still seemed to be beating with great force. A smirk touched her lips as she played with the flaps of his shirt.

"Thanks for making me warm," she giggled softly, burying her face in his chest.

"No problem," Richard joshed back. "I'm glad to have been of service."

Chuckling together, the two lovers kissed softly, before cuddling up beside the small fire and going to sleep, wrapped in each other's warm embrace.


	37. Riddles and Wisdom

Night had descended on the People's Palace, and Verna was growing weary and fatigued, not to mention she was getting tired with Nathan's constant blabbering and nonsensical riddles. Frankly, she had had enough of it and wanted answers. The Prophet had been extremely vague the entire afternoon. He had told Warren that legends were kept in the libraries of the Lord Rahl, yet nothing they had found would amount to any much help for Richard when he finally arrived.

They had spent much of the day pouring over dusty tomes and treaties, looking for references to these  _so-called_ "legends" Nathan had pontificated about, yet still they had not found anything that could even be properly labeled as a legend. And the day had gone on and on with the same tedious search. Her eyes were growing tired of staring at yellowed brittle paper with scrawling writing that was hard to read in the dim light of the candles. Nyda, the Mord'Sith left in command by Cara, had had some of her fellow Mord'Sith bring in more candles for the Sister of the Light, but with the declining sun, it was just becoming more difficult to read.

Presently, Verna was hunched over the table, an aged scroll from a thousand years ago spread out before her. The scroll was in remarkable condition and Verna made a mental note to compliment the caretakers for their diligent work at protecting the many collections stored in the library. As her eyes scanned the faded text, she suddenly spied something that caught her interest.

"That bastard!" she snapped out, sitting straight up and glaring out into the darkness.

Warren was by her side in a flash, concern creasing his youthful features. "Is everything alright, my love?" he inquired, his voice gentle and tender.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Verna looked up at Warren and sighed. She shifted and placed a hand on his worried face. "I'm fine, Warren, really," Verna reassured him. "It's just that Nathan… well… he gets me really angry sometimes."

A small smile cracked open his lips and he nodded, kneeling down beside her chair so that their faces were eye-leveled with one another. "Yes, he can be irritating at times," Warren said, placing a hand on her shoulder, his fingers gently rubbing the tension out of her muscles. Verna leaned her head back against the headrest and let out a soft moan of appreciation. "So," he continued in a soft voice. "What is it that has you shouting obscenities?"

Verna laughed lightly at his choice of words. He was so adorable at times; she could not believe it had taken her so long to notice him. Warren may not have been dashingly handsome as Jedidiah was, but he was a far better man than someone like Jedidiah could ever hope to become.

"It's just Nathan and his damnable riddles!" she huffed. "I mean... how hard is it to tell us what he wants us to know? It would certainly decrease the amount of time we waste searching through useless tomes and books when he could just direct us to the proper one."

"Ah, but to truly gain knowledge, one cannot simply have it handed to them, now could they?" came the irritating voice of the Prophet.

Verna scowled and arched her neck to glare up at the Prophet, who had finally—after having walked with them to the library, only to then disappear—decided to grace them with his presence. Nathan locked eyes with her and gave a knowing smirk.

"Found something, Sister Verna?" he asked.

Narrowing her eyes and keeping her face set in a scowl, Verna turned back to the scroll before her. "Here," she pointed to a section of text. "It says that the Lord Rahl has a private library… where the more rare and obscure books are kept."

Nathan nodded. "That is true."

Warren furrowed his brow, confused. "And it was  _this_  library you spoke of when you spoke of _legends_?"

"Correct," Nathan inclined his head, while he crossed his arms over his chest.

Verna let out an exacerbated breath. "Then we  _have_  been wasting our time here!" she growled at Nathan, pulling herself up and propping her hands on the table to lean across and glare hard at him. "From what I've read on this scroll, it would seem that  _that_  library should be the one we should be scouring for information regarding this  _so-called_  legends you keep babbling on about."

Nathan raised his eyes and smiled at her calmly. Spirits, how she wanted to slug him in the face for how relax and calm he was in this time of trouble! "Now don't you feel better having discovered this yourself?" he asked, smiling.

Crossing her arms under her breasts and straightening her back, Verna stuck her chin up at him and harrumphed. "You've just wasted the precious amount of time we have, you foolish old man!" she glowered. "Take us to this library… this place that has been stored with the most rare and unique books and works for the eyes of the Lord Rahl."

"I would if I could," Nathan spoke matter-of-factly, as if it was no big deal what he was saying.

"What?" Verna stammered, exchanging a stunned look with Warren.

"Well, I did say that it was a private library for the Lord Rahl," Nathan said, cocking his head slightly, his azure eyes gazing at her in a manner of a disappointed teacher at their star pupil. "And you did point out that the books and tomes stored there are for the eyes of the Lord Rahl."

"Meaning?" Warren question, seeing that Verna was seething with anger and had to bit the insider of her cheek to keep from raging at the old Prophet.

"Meaning, young Prophet," Nathan said, shifting his gaze to Warren," that only the Lord Rahl can open the door."

"But surely with magic gone, we can open this door," Verna pointed out, feeling she was making a valid point and that the old fool had just not thought of that. "And besides, you're a Rahl… not the  _Lord Rahl_ , but a Rahl nonetheless. Surely you could use your magic to open this door… wherever it might be."

"Come, let me show you the door, then you can judge," Nathan spoke calmly, turning on his heels and walking off into the shadows.

Verna exchanged a confused look with Warren, before they both hustled around the table to follow the older man. They walked passed many of the bookshelves and pigeonholed shelves packed tight with scrolls. Nyda and two of her Mord'Sith were close behind, more for protection than anything else. The Mord'Sith had become extremely protective of Verna, especially when it was discovered that she was with child. And all the Mord'Sith seemed especially fond of Warren. She did not know how to take that, or if the feeling she felt in her chest was akin to jealousy, but, nonetheless, she just was thankful to have their support.

Eventually they reached a passageway that went through the tan colored stone wall, a tunnel that connected the two wings of the main library. Nathan was waiting for them, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed and reserved. He looked at Verna with his raptor gaze, then at Warren. Nyda backtracked and grabbed a torch, bringing it over and illuminating the dark passageway with the warm orange glow of the flames.

Turning, Verna saw a mismatch of stonework along side the right wall of the passageway. She immediately recognized the etched lines that signaled a door. Her eyes scanned the entire wall. There was no sign of any hinges or handle. The door obviously required some connection, through magical or other means, to the Lord Rahl. She shifted her gaze to Nathan, and watched as the Prophet simply looked back at her with a blank stare.

"This is the door to the Lord Rahl's private library," he said, stating the obvious.

She gave a curt nod and turned to look at Warren. Her husband was narrowing his eyes, focused on the layout of the entire stonework. He ran his fingers along the grooves, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought.

"No clear bend or break," he said, stepping back, looking over at them, his eyes locking with Verna for a moment.

She glanced over at Nathan and rolled her eyes at the old prophet. Spirits, how the man infuriated her! "Nathan, why don't you just use your magic to open the door?" Verna snapped; it was more an order than a question, though the inclinations of her voice made it sound like a request.

"Magic?" Nathan harrumphed and glanced sideways at her with his raptor gaze. "Come now, Verna, surely I don't have to remind you that magic has ceased to work since the Mother Confessor released the Chimes to heal Richard from that magical plague."

Verna huffed and crossed her arms under her breasts, squinting as she glared up at the prophet. "Need I remind you that as prophets, both you and Warren have subtractive magic? Only additive magic has been affected by the release of the Chimes of Death."

"Yes, yes," Nathan nodded, a knowing grin forming on his lips. "I did catch that one bit of magic Warren performed whilst we were traveling."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked over at Warren, who had started examining the engraved lines on the wall again, noticing that he was blushing as well. Nathan let out a boisterous laugh at there discomfort.

"Do not be embarrassed," he said, almost speaking to them as if he was a father. "You are young and married. I cannot begrudge you for indulging in such things when you are in love."

Verna glanced over at the Mord'Sith and saw that they were smiling. She bit her lower lip and turned back to Nathan. "Well, can you open the door or not?"

Nathan lowered his brow and turned serious. "Perhaps. Maybe. I don't know," he asserted with a shrug. "I have probed the area with the subtractive magic left to me, but I can sense nothing. I am positive that this is the door to the Lord Rahl's private library. I may be a thousand years old, but my memory is as sharp as it was when I was still a lad and roaming the palace with my father."

She inclined her head, looking over at Warren. He was kneeling down by the wall, leaning his head against it, as if he was trying to listen for sounds on the other side of the supposed door. "Are you absolutely positive?" Verna questioned, turning her attention back to the prophet.

He gave a nod. "The Mord'Sith confirmed my memories, yes."

Verna turned her head towards Nyda. The Mord'Sith took the cue and gave a nod. "Yes, Sister Verna," she confirmed. "Many of us have seen this door opened, even some have gone inside with Darken Rahl when he was the Lord Rahl."

"Are there any here at the People's Palace?" she asked, referring to the Mord'Sith who had accompanied the previous Lord Rahl into the chamber beyond this sealed door.

Nyda shook her head. "Berdine is the only one that still lives," she said. "And she is with the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor."

Verna nodded. "Then as unfortunate as it is, we may have to wait for Richard to get here before we open this door."

Nathan gave a nod. "That's what I was thinking, yes."

Warren pushed himself up to his feet and inclined his head. "There is definitely something beyond, but I cannot do anything to move the door. And when I reach out with my Han, it hurts."

"Warren?" Verna reached out and placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

He smiled softly, and brought his hand up to join hers. "Barely enough to make a fuss over, my love."

"Warren's right," Nathan nodded. "The door is definitely sealed with some subtractive magic, who knows what it could be designed to do if triggered." He paused and folded his hands over his chest. "I agree, Verna, seeing as even Warren feels pain when he reaches out with his Han. Richard is our only hope."

Verna let out an exacerbated breath. "And why was it necessary to wait until I found a passage in some obscure scroll about the existence of this library, when you knew all along?"

"Wisdom and knowledge are not given, but earned, my dear," Nathan said with a sly smile. "I needed to see if you were up to the challenge."

She grumbled and shook her head. "Alright, I'll except that explanation for now," Verna replied, then pointed a stern finger at him when he started to smile smugly. "But I still think it was a complete waste of time!"


	38. The Calm Before

Richard woke with a sigh, which soon combined itself with a soft groan of exasperation. As much as he hated getting up, he knew they had too. He shifted on the blanket, running his hand along her side and over the swollen belly that showed to all the world that this amazing woman carried his child. It still was a shock to him. He was going to be a father, and he knew or remembered very little of his own father, or even his childhood, for that matter.

Letting out another disappointed sigh about leaving the glorious warmth of the wayward pine, Richard brought his hand back up and gently shifted some of her lush hair away from her neck. Propping himself up on his elbow, he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against her supple flesh, kissing her softly.

"Hey, Kahlan…," he murmured softly, continuing to run light kisses across her slender neck. "It's time to get up."

Kahlan made a noise and grunted. "Can't we just sleep for another hour?" she pleaded with a pout.

"We already did," Richard smiled and shifted over her as she turned her head slightly to look up at him. Spirits, he would always be left breathless by how brilliant her blue eyes were. And it still amazed him at the depth of love he always saw reflecting back at him when she gazed up at him.

Bringing a hand up, he ran his fingers down the side of her face, brushing away some strands of dark hair that covered her perfect features. Smoothing his palm across her cheek, he smiled as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

"I just want to stay here with you… forever," she whispered. "With you, my Richard, I want for nothing."

Richard laughed softly and leaned down, pressing a slow and tender kiss against her lips. Her mouth parted when he backed away, a pleased sigh escaping her throat.

"I love you, too, Kahlan," he smiled and nipped at her nose playfully. "But we need to get a move on. The People's Palace is still a good two to three days away with the speed that we are traveling. I'd like to get there as soon as possible." He paused and moved his hand down her body to touch her swollen belly. "The mother of my child needs a soft comfortable bed to sleep on, instead of having to lie on the cold hard ground."

Kahlan smirked and chuckled lightly, her eyes sparkling as she scooted her body closer to his. "I'm warm and comfortable right now, Richard," she purred softly. "All I need is you. Nothing else matters."

"Well, just the same," Richard told her, looking her in the eye so she knew he meant business. "I'd prefer it if you were safe and sound in a bed."

She let out a long sigh and nodded. "Alright, just this once I will concede this argument to my husband," Kahlan said, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. She leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the lips, before groaning as she heaved herself up into a sitting position, his hand immediately moving to her back to assist.

"Want me to send for Ruthy?" he asked as he shifted to a sitting position next to her.

Kahlan let out a huff and placed her hands on her belly. She looked over at him and frowned. "What for?"

His cheeks reddened. "Well, I assume you're going to need a change of underthings," he said, pausing for a moment before continuing in a quieter voice. "I know I do."

Kahlan's pale cheeks went bright pink in a matter of seconds and she bit her bottom lip as she looked away sheepishly with a nod. Richard shifted to his knees, preparing to stand up. He ran a hand along the side of her face and gripped her jaw lightly, tilting her head back to him. She stared at him with expectant blue eyes. Giving her a soft reassuring smile, he leaned forward and gently captured her lips, filling the kiss with all the love he felt for her.

With hardly any memories besides those occupying her and related to the Mord'Sith, Richard had nothing else. Kahlan was quite literally his whole world. Leaning back, he rested his forehead against hers and they shared a warm breath.

"Just stay here and relax," he told her. "I'm going to see if I can get you something to eat, and then after Ruthy's helped you change, we'll be on our way."

"Okay," she said with a nod, relenting to his decisions.

He smiled warmly and pressed another kiss to her lips, relishing how she leaned into him, her hands coming up to grab at his collar, keeping him to her as she deepened the kiss. He closed his eyes and could not help but let out a low moan as her tongue touched his.

Backing out of the kiss, Richard saw Kahlan smiling widely. "Just think, Lord Rahl, once you get me in a bed, you can do far more to me than you did last night."

Richard chuckled. "Getting you with child is probably the best thing I have ever done," he joked.

"Oh, and why's that,  _Seeker_?" she teased back, switching to his other title. Just how many titles did he hold, he wondered.

Standing slowly as he slipped the Sword of Truth back onto his belt, he smiled down at her and winked. "You're sex drive only seems to have quadruple, my lovely confessor," he replied, watching as she blushed.

However, she still smirked back at him and quirked up an eyebrow, almost as if she was egging him on. "Just wait until this belly is out of the way, my Richard," she spoke in a slow and seductive voice. "Then you'll truly see what sort of effect you have on  _my_  sex drive!"

Whatever longing sound she managed to coax from his throat with that statement, seemed to have had the effect she desired, because Kahlan was smiling triumphantly when Richard pushed some of the pine boughs out of the way as he ducked out into the cold wind.

XXX

The dull grey wall in the distance was large and seemingly impenetrable, but Sister Bree knew differently. Nothing stood in the way of the Imperial Order. Nothing.

The weather seemed content on matching her mood. A large patch of thick morning fog had descended upon the encampment, bringing with it a chilly breeze that caused her to shudder and pulled the diaphanous red silk robe, which had been given to her by the Emperor, tighter around her lithe body. Out of the corner of her eye, Bree noticed that some of the guards were overtly ogling her, taking advantage of the transparency of the fabric.

During her first days with the Order, back before she had become the  _Emperor's Whore_ , Bree had been taken by countless men, so many that she had lost count. Though, being a Sister of the Dark, she had not been treated as harshly as the other women who had been unfortunate enough to have caught the lecherous gaze of the Order. Many of the more attractive and more gifted Sisters of the Light had been taken to holding paddocks in the deep south of the Old World, and were used as breeding stock to produce more wizards in which Brother Narev could then indoctrinate into the Brotherhood of the Order.

But Bree had been spared that fate. Having both beauty and knowledge of subtractive magic, a gift given to her by the Eternal Father, the Keeper, Bree had been deemed important enough for the Emperor himself. And then when the beast of a man first looked upon her with his swirling black eyes, she was his. The days of being sent to the tents did not entirely end, but slowly, Bree noticed the change in the men's attitude towards her. They would look at her, but not touch, unless told they could.

The wind blew around her harshly, pulling at her scant clothing. Bree lower her brow and wrapped her arms around herself, only vaguely aware of the sound of the tent flap behind her parting opening. She could hear his footsteps and could smell the foul scent of his garlic breath. Apparently some healer from the Old World had told the Emperor that eating copious amounts of garlic would increase his stamina. Adjusting her sore legs, she could attest to its effectiveness, though he had never lacked for stamina before.

However, it was not just the garlic, but also a mixture of something else that was added to it, something that even Bree had never heard of. It came from beyond the seas, in the southern islands of the Sommerret, a strange people who had backwards and different ways. As of right now, the Order was leaving them be, as vast sailing ships would be needed to cross the expansive ocean to get to them. After the Midlands fell and the nuisance that was the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor were dealt with, then—and only then, would the Imperial Order turn their eye to the Sommerret. For now, they were safe as long as they kept paying tribute to prevent invasion.

The Emperor's large hand fell onto her shoulder and he squeezed hard. "Seems that the Creator has chosen sides," he said, his voice lower and deep. "She has sent us cover to mask our approach."

"Fog is fog, your Excellency," Bree spoke in a neutral voice. "The Great Mother does not care about the whims of man."

"That may be so, darlin," his grip on her shoulder tightened and he leaned down behind her, his warm hot breath on her ear. "But that Eternal Father of yours, the Keeper, He has a vested interest in my crusade."

Bree gritted her teeth and schooled her features. "As long as the Imperial Order keeps presenting the Keeper with souls, he will be satisfied." She paused and looked up at the Emperor, meeting his dark inky eyes. "Sooner or later you will run out of souls to give to the Keeper… what would you do then, my liege?"

"I will do what I always do," the Emperor replied calmly. "I will prevail."

XXX

Nicci stood on the battlements looking out at the fog-shrouded valley below. She wrapped her arms around herself, tugging the black cloak tighter around her slender frame. Her blonde hair caught up in the wind and blew wildly about her face. She had gotten very little sleep last night. No one did really. Though some had things to keep them entertained. Cara had Captain Meiffert to keep her distracted; the sounds of the Mord'Sith's cries of ecstasy were testament to that.

Closing her eyes, Nicci let out a small sigh of sadness. Unlike her Mord'Sith friend, she had no one. All she had in the darkness of the night and the loneliness of her bedchambers were thoughts of a man who loved another. Nicci was weak when it came to Richard, she always was. It was not just his handsome features and impressive physique that had attracted her. There was something in his eyes, something that was a mystery to her, something she longed to know and understand. Even now, devoid of much of his memories, the Seeker of Truth still had that spark in his eyes.

Absently, she wondered if Kahlan knew the secret behind that spark, if she understood it, and was embraced by it. Richard loved Kahlan with a passion, even without his memories, he still loved her. No love was stronger than the love those two shared. The proof of it was in the fact that they could love one another at all. His love for the confessor went so deep into his very soul that he was immune to the deadly grasp of the confessor's dark magic. His heart already belonged to her and therefore could not be consumed into submission, when he would already submit to her out of his own free will. Nicci envied the love those two shared.

Oh, how she longed to feel a love like that! Tightening the cloak around her as the wind picked up again, she lowered her head and braced herself against the stone walls. For now she would have to make do with her thoughts of Richard, the memories of seeing him at the Mud People's village when he and Kahlan performed the ritual marriage to become members of the tribe. It was the first and only time she would ever see  _all_  of him.

Kahlan, on the other hand, saw and felt Richard more frequently than anyone else, and for that, Nicci was happy for the confessor. No woman deserved to be loved as much as Kahlan. Confessors were supposed to be destined to loveless marriages to confessed men. But Richard had challenged the rules and dared to love a confessor. And not even Nicci, Cara, or any other woman, who could be with him in every sense of the word, were capable of making him stray from the confessor.

The sound of a door opening pulled her from her thoughts. She shifted, and looked up to see Cara strolling into sight.

"Nicci," the Mord'Sith inclined her head in a curt greeting.

"Cara," Nicci greeted her back with an equally curt nod. It was their way. She paused as the Mord'Sith positioned herself beside her, crossing her arms under her breasts as she gazed out at the fog-covered lowland before them. "How was last night with Benjamin?"

To her credit, Cara did not move. Her eyes merely blinked twice, and that was the extent of her reaction. "Since you ask the question, I believe you already know the answer," Cara replied after an awkward moment of silence.

Nicci smiled softly. "He's good for you, Cara," she spoke, sincerely. "I mean it. I'm happy for you."

Cara took a quick breath and turned her head slightly. The genuine look of gratitude in her eyes was unmistakable; it was clear that she had learned much from her time with Richard and Kahlan. "Thank you," the Mord'Sith inclined her head. And then, after a pause, she continued, nudging the sorceress with her leather-clad elbow. "Someday you may find a man too."

"To match Richard? I think not," Nicci replied with a sad smile as the Mord'Sith nodded in agreement. "But thank you, nonetheless."

In a strange way, sharing their mutual love for a man neither of them could have, bonded them together as sisters of a sort. Neither would ever tell Richard, though each suspected he already knew. Nicci, at least, was convinced that Richard knew that  _she_  loved him. And the sorceress also knew that the Mord'Sith never wanted the D'Haran captain to know how deep her love for the Lord Rahl went. Though, despite that, Nicci knew that Cara truly loved the D'Haran captain. And that he was not second pick or a runner-up. Cara was not settling for Benjamin Meiffert. Her love for him was real and true. The fact that she was here in Adyindril with him rather than out on the road to the People's Palace with the Seeker was all the proof she required.

Pondering these thoughts, the sorceress turned her attention back out to the lowlands before the city. Just through the mist she could make out the pointy tops of the vast sea of tents. She knew that the Emperor was out there. Though they had only met once, Nicci knew that the man was a brutal beast, and his eyes… spirits, his eyes were like a nightmare. And though he had no pupils, the former Sister of the Dark could always tell when he had been looking at her.

Nicci was no fool. She knew why Brother Narev, whom she had once thought of as a father figure, had introduced her to the young Jagang. And the way Jagang had leered at her made that all too clear. Narev wanted her gift in the magical arts to be passed on to an offspring with dreamwalker blood. And the Emperor had been all to thrilled with the prospect of doing such a thing.

Shivering, Nicci narrowed her eyes out at the low mist. Hitching her gaze up, she spotted a darkness on the horizon.

"A storm is coming," she spoke aloud, hearing the sounds of the men waking, troopers starting their rounds and patrols. Nicci turned and looked at Cara, watching as the Mord'Sith tilted her head slightly to look at her. "Soon, Cara. It will be very soon."


	39. The Storm Begins

Kevan spurred his donkey on, encouraging her to follow behind the grey garron that Brother Cadelf rode. Before leaving the monastery at Obentan, they had went to the stables and checked on their mounts. Kevan's donkey was tired, but not entirely fatigued and since their journey would be downhill, the stable master said his beast of burden could handle it.

Cadelf had chosen a small hardy mare well suited to the cold temperatures of the mountains. Kevan had seen garrons before, but none as steady as the kind found in the Obentan Mountains. Cadelf's garron had thick shaggy hair, which helped to attest to its resistance to the cold weather.

Presently they were approaching the river town of Forks, which fortunately had not been attacked by the Imperial Order yet. Though, it was clear that the townsfolk were gearing up to abandon their homes. Cadelf took charge and directed his steady garron over to what appeared to be the local tavern. Kevan had spent most of his journey to the monastery of Obentan in the backcountry, trying to avoid Imperial Order patrols, so he had not visited many such establishments.

And to be honest, most of his life had been spent in the Cloister back home. His journey to Obentan had been the first time he had ever left Tinnar. Abbot Eddard was more than just his spiritual guide; he was like a father to him. Kevan had practically been raised by the Order of Ulrich. He knew nothing else besides his vows and oaths. His entire life had been detected to the Creator and his fellow brothers of the cowl.

Brother Cadelf brought his garron to a halt and sure-footedly dismounted, his boots sinking into the thick mud. The older brother patted the side of his garron's neck and looked over at Kevan. "Do not trouble getting down, young brother," Cadelf spoke in a pleasant voice. The man seemed to have boundless optimism, even in the darkest of times. "I do not suspect we shall be staying long."

Kevan gave a nod of his head, directing his donkey to halt besides the grey garron. The two mares, garron and donkey respectively, looked at each other and grunted. Brother Cadelf, his ice blue eyes sparkling in a manner that Kevan had never seen in any of their order, patted his garron one last time before hooking his cowl up over his head and darting inside the tavern.

He waited outside, adjusted himself on in the saddle. His backside was sore from their morning ride, but he would suffer the ache in silence. Listening to the cornucopia of sounds around him, Kevan watched as families, old and young alike, packed their carts or pack mules to the limit before shuffling off through the square, heading out of town… heading east, towards D'Hara.

Kevan narrowed his eyes, shifting to glance over towards the ominous dark mountain range that separated the Midlands from D'Hara. A forbidding place is what he had been told as a child, dark and evil. However, times had changed with the fall of Darken Rahl and the rise of the Seeker, who had claimed the title of Lord Rahl and had now ruled for slightly over a year. And the marriage between the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor had changed the political landscape of the two territories, uniting them together in a way neither previous Lord Rahls had been capable of doing through conquest.

The D'Haran Empire was what people were calling it. The capital divided between Aydindril and the People's Palace. Wherever the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor were, was the capital. Narrowing his eyes, Kevan turned his gaze west, towards Aydindril, wondering if their journey would take them there.

"Well, it appears my choice in ride was well place," Brother Cadelf's voice pulled him out of his musings.

Kevan turned and looked down at the prior. Cadelf was pulling himself up onto the garron, his ice blue eyes looking a little tired.

"Brother Cadelf?" he questioned.

Cadelf glanced over at him and sighed. "It appears that the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor have abandoned Aydindril, leaving only a small detachment of D'Haran and Midland soldiers to defend the city," the older man informed him. "They are on their way to the People's Palace. According to the tavern keeper, many Midlanders are following their lead. It appears the Order is camped out before the walls of Aydindril, about ready to sack the city."

Kevan stifled a horrified gasp. He had traveled little, but he had seen the wonders of the seat of Confessors: The sparkling white marble façade of the Confessor's Palace, the large marketplaces, the plazas and squares, the dark and foreboding Wizard's Keep looming over it all. The lost of a city such as Aydindril would seriously be a tragedy, but he had to hope that the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor knew what they were doing.

"Come," Cadelf called in a curt voice, for the first time in their journey sounding depressed. "We go east… towards D'Haran." He paused and then laughed, whispering in a soft voice, "I never thought I'd ever say that."

XXX

Nicci stood in the center of the group; General Reibisch of the D'Haran army on one side, and General Sheldon of the Midlands forces on the other. Each man was dressed in full battle armor, each displaying the colors of their homelands. Reibisch: the dark crimson of D'Haran. Sheldon: the sage green of Kelton. To be honest, the sorceress had been surprised when both men had agreed to work together. Two years ago they had been enemies, apparently, having faced each other on opposing sides during many battles.

But all that had seemed to do was instill a respect and admiration between the two. Any animosity for past conflicts seemed to have been forgotten. The two were brothers-in-arms now. Both defending the D'Haran Empire, an empire formed by the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor… by Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell, both of whom were formidable personalities and warriors in their own rights.

"They will attack soon," Reibisch was saying, his rust-colored beard more unruly than normal. He had had little sleep during the past month.

The same could be said for almost all of them. The constant drumming and bombardments by the Order had made sleep all but impossible. Though last night had been the rare exception, which had told everyone that today was the day the Order would strike. Nicci had been dreading this since the day Richard and Kahlan had left. She knew that the deadly subtractive magic she wielded would help, but with the vast numbers the Order had at its call, it was still a daunting task to try and defend the city.

"We should not waste men defending the wall," Sheldon asserted.

"I agree." Cara said. "With the enormous host at their command, the Order will have no trouble throwing wave upon wave at the walls. Even the Dragon's Breath Mines we've hidden along the perimeter won't hold them off for long."

"Mistress Cara is correct," Captain Meiffert said, his eyes looking over at the Mord'Sith with absolute love and respect, even as his words tried to conceal the fact that the two were more intimate than they would like the others to believe. "The typical soldier of the Order is a fanatic brutish rogue who is persuaded easily by dogma, promises of riches, or the pillaging of their prey. They will fight with wild abandon, and have no fear of death, for they feel that their cause is righteous and just."

"D'Harans will fight to the last man," Reibisch said with a curt nod.

"We all will, if necessary," Sheldon added. The two generals shared a smiled of mutual respect.

Nicci took a deep breath and watched as Cara nodded slowly. She noticed the Mord'Sith's eyes furtively glancing at the D'Haran captain. Nicci envied Cara for finding a man who so obviously loved and worshiped her. And though he was not Richard, the sorceress knew that the Mord'Sith would not trade away Meiffert for anything. Both of them, Nicci and Cara, had learned to accept the fact that neither one of them could have Richard. His heart had always belonged to Kahlan. Nicci only wished that one day she could be fortunate enough to find a man capable of helping to fill that void in her heart, like the Mord'Sith had.

"How long to you suppose we have until they send the first wave?" Sheldon asked, directing the question to her.

Nicci furrowed her brow and lowered her eyebrows. "And hour… two at the most," she estimated.

"Then we have some time to rest before the assault begins?" Meiffert inquired, his eyes slowly drifting from the others to the Mord'Sith.

Nicci smiled softly, having an idea what the D'Haran captain had in mind, and it wasn't rest. The look in the Mord'Sith's eyes seemed to confirm that her mind was going to the same place that the captain's was, because Cara unabashedly stared back at Captain Meiffert with open lust in her eyes.

Originally the Mord'Sith and Captain Benjamin Meiffert of the First File had not been invited to this briefing, but the sorceress had insisted, knowing that both of them would be invaluable in this fool hearty effort to defend Aydindril.

Yes, that's how she thought of this. Nicci had no doubts or misconceptions about their task. The defense of Aydindril was little more than a joke. And they all knew it. But it did have a purpose, an important one. They were going to be buying time for Richard and Kahlan to prepare the People's Palace for the inevitable final battle. That delay would also give them more time to research how to repair the damage done by the Chimes, though Nicci doubted they would find a way of reversing that anytime soon. That problem was actually, in the larger scheme of things, much bigger than the Order.

The sorceress knew that once Aydindril fell, the Emperor would turn his inky black eyes towards the People's Palace. It was, after all, the last bright light in the darkness that the Imperial Order was trying to pull the rest of the world into. Nicci only wished she had access to all her Han. Though, she could not fault Kahlan for calling forth the Chimes to save Richard, she would have done the same in Kahlan's place. Richard was a man worthy of such sacrifice.

Clearing her throat, Nicci took control of the briefing. They quickly covered the strategy Nicci and Richard had discussed before he had decided to leave with Kahlan. It was a sound plan, meant more as a diversion than a full-fledged defense of the city. She could only hope it would work.

XXX

Bree stood erect, her clothing more to her liking, not as revealing as the kind she had been wearing earlier in the morning. The Emperor had assembled his generals and lieutenants, and was making last minute plans for the final assault upon Aydindril. He had demanded Bree's presence by his side. She listened and watched as the brutes planned the coming onslaught, and the pillaging that would follow.

"I don't many women are in there, your Excellency," General Vicck, probably the only man amongst all the generals in the Imperial Order's army to have any education, said. "During our reconnoiter a few weeks ago, my men observed a vast line of people evacuating the city. We believe that only soldiers remain, perhaps a handful of Mord'Sith, but I cannot say for sure."

The Emperor smirked. "Then those Mord'Sith should be preparing themselves for satisfying the needs of a great many men," he ran a large hand over his bald crown. "My men  _will_  be rewarded for the sacrifices that will be asked of them today."

Vicck nodded, casting a wary glance towards Bree. "And what of the witch, your Excellency?" he questioned, his eyes glaring hard at her. It did not take much to know that the man distrusted the Sister of the Dark, and rightly so. She was, after all, a loyal servant of the Eternal Father, the Keeper, and had never disavowed that oath to her Master.

"She will remain by my side," the Emperor boomed, running a large hand along her waist, bringing her closer to his brawny body. "The sight and smell of so much blood and death may even prove itself as a powerful aphrodisiac, and I could then take her right there in the middle of the battlefield!" His boisterous laugh filled the tent, and all the others laughed as well.

Bree narrowed her eyes, noticing that all seemed genuine in their amusement, except for General Vicck. His laugh was strained and forced. He was not amused. She took note of this. Vicck was a man to watch. Out of all the rest, he was the most dangerous, as he came to this fight for the cause, not the brutality of it. He was a man of fervent belief in the Imperial Order's righteous war of subduing the rest of the world.

The Emperor's grip around her waist tightened and he pulled her along with him, exiting the tent. The flaps were held open by the sentries outside as the Emperor and his retinue emerged into the morning sunlight to look out the vast fields towards the tall grey walls of their prey.

"Tell me, darlin," the Emperor purred, his large hand moving up her back as he pushed her forward, ahead of him and his party. "What does your magic tell you?"

Bree knitted her eyebrows together and glared up at his fearsome face. His small smile lacked any genuine or sincere feeling. It was fake, like much of what he was. His dark eyes swirled, yet the magic he had once commanded was gone. He could no longer look into the minds of others, and control them, as he once had. The Chimes of Death had dealt a blow to the dreamwalker as well, yet Bree, being a devotee of the Keeper, still had the subtractive magic that the Eternal Father had gifted to her. The Chimes only took away, in her opinion, the weaker form of magic: Additive.

"Well, darlin?" the Emperor sneered, his big hand running up her back, gripping the back of her neck and holding her firm. "What does your vile magic tell you?"

She closed her eyes and reached out with her Han. There was much she could sense with her subtractive magic. Life, yes, she could sense the presence of the soldiers, and of the spells the bitch of a traitor Nicci had laced throughout the battlements. Though, Nicci was no fool, she knew that Bree would sense those, and the former Sister of the Dark had enhanced those spells, making them stronger than normal. Bree could not dismantle them. The best way to create a gap in the wall would be to send wave upon wave of useless cannon fodder at them.

"Spells within spells, my liege," she spat out. "Sister Nicci is inside. She has spelled the walls with her subtractive magic. I cannot break them."

Something changed in the Emperor at the mention of Sister Nicci. His inky black eyes looked up towards the tall walls of the city and he looked almost forlorn and wanting. "I want her," he growled, turning to his men. "The sorceress must be taken…  _alive_. Brother Narev had plans for her, and I intend for the seeds that he has sowed to ripen and grow strong and endurable."

The generals nodded, planting their fists on there chests. General Vicck seemed the only one who actually knew what the Emperor had meant by that, and the only one to catch the double meaning. Bree watched as the generals sauntered away, ready to give out orders. The attack would begin soon.

The Emperor's large hand moved down her back and his arm snaked around her waist. "We have time before the attack, darlin," he murmured in a manner she knew he thought was romantic. She suppressed the need to roll her eyes as he led her back to his tent.

XXX

It was the warning horns that Cara first heard after she came down from her climax. She was on the bed, her legs straddling Captain Benjamin Meiffert, one of his large hands firmly gripping her buttock, while the other cupped and held her breast.

"The alarms!" she panted in a heavy voice, still thick with the pleasure he had given her.

She jumped off of him, groaning slightly at the feeling of him slipping out of her. Meiffert rolled onto this side, groaning as well at the loss of their connection. They locked eyes and in that briefest of moments, each relaying how much they loved and cared for the other. Before Cara could fully stand up from the bed, Meiffert grabbed her jaw in his strong hand and pulled her close in a deep kiss. As they broke away, Cara let out a sigh she never would have believed she would ever make.

"I love you, Benjamin," she murmured, placing a hand on his bare chest, knowing what she said was the truth. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she felt fear for the first time. Fear that she might lose him. "Please, be safe today."

"I love you, Cara," Meiffert replied, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You be safe, too."

Cara gave a slight nod, amazed that she was so helplessly in love with this man. She had thought Richard would be the only man she ever thought this way for, but she was wrong. If anything, the love she felt for Benjamin was stronger… more pure, than the lustful kind of love she had had for Richard. She still had it, but the love she was feeling for Benjamin at this moment overshadowed those feelings.

Closing her eyes, she kissed him one last time before climbing out of the bed and hastily pulling on her red leather. He had asked her not to where it, knowing that the uniform of a Mord'Sith would single her out amongst the soldiers, that it would help in making her a target amongst the brutes of the Order.

Rumor had it that a special kind of hell awaited Mord'Sith who were captured by the Imperial Order. They weren't just brutalized sexually but were also experimented on by the army doctors, and some had even been broken into the service of the Emperor himself. Spies had even heard tales of a Mord'Sith named Constance, the last loyal to Darken Rahl, who had been butchered by the Emperor. The story went that the Emperor had quite literally tore her heart out of her chest and feasted on it after he was finished with her.

Cara had shrugged off those rumors. If she was going to die, it was going to be as a Mord'Sith, was what she had told her lover. She was going to die proud of who and what she was. Captain Meiffert had not been too happy about that, but he relented, knowing she was strong. He had kissed her tenderly, in much the same manner Cara had often seen Richard kiss Kahlan, and told her that he would stand by her side, and if fate deemed it, he would die with her.

The low bellows of the horns continued as Cara tugged on her belt, finding the short sword that she would use since her agiels would be useless with magic gone. She looked over at the man she loved, watching as he clasped his breastplate on. Her breath hitched up as she gazed at him, marveling at his broad and muscular form. It was almost hard to believe that just moments ago she had been straddling his middle feeling him filling her so deeply, it left her knees weak with a blissful kind of rapture.

Meiffert caught her looking at him, and he gave her a soft smile as he tightened the laces on his steel gauntlets. "Just remember the plan, Cara, and we should do fine," he said.

She nodded, turning her back to him so that he would not see the fear in her eyes. She could not lose him. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity. Cara vowed that she would make it through this battle. She had too, more so now than ever before, she had a reason to live. And that reason was standing right besides her.

Opening her eyes, she slowly pulled her short sword from its scabbard, judging the weight of the blade in her hand. She was not used to fighting with a sword, but she had been training with Meiffert for almost a month now. The grip still felt strange in her hand, but she was determined and confident. As long as her Benjamin was by her side, she could do anything.

Meiffert came up beside her and smiled, almost cockily. His hand dropped to his waist and she heard steel touching steel as he pulled his longsword from its scabbard.

"Together, Cara… together we are unstoppable."

Cara smirked, a sparkle touching her eyes. Spirits, how she loved this man! Giving him a wink that promised some rewards if they should live through this, she opened the door and together they ran out to meet the coming onslaught.


	40. Besieged

Fiery balls of burning flames crashed down around them. Buildings were hit, the stone giving way to gravity, raining down debris. The glaring horns still blared across the turmoil, warning and alerting all those that the assault had commence. Rubble littered the streets from destroyed buildings, yet no one stopped to clean it up. It was futile. The city wasn't going to last that much longer, and they all knew that they weren't going to be staying that much longer either.

Nicci stood in a bell tower, grimacing at the bell was tolled behind her. The men down below in the base of the tower were pulling the thick rope to turn the bell, making it ring. The sound of it was clamorous and deafening, but the former Sister of the Dark paid it no heed. Her attention was totally focused on the field below, where the enemy host was marshalling up. The columns were thick and heavy with battle harden men, all of them tested and proven in many battles. Sure, they were brutes, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming, even for her, who had already known how massive the army would be.

Stationed in intermittent intervals between the columns of men were catapults, ballistas, and trebuchets. It was the large wooden trebuchets that were hurling the fiery projectiles into the city. The bombardment had begun just as the morning fog had lifted. But the warning horns had been sounded just before. Unlike the others, Nicci had not taken the time to rest before the coming battle. She had positioned herself high up in the bell tower to watch the movement of the enemy camp far below. She had seen the first signs of the enemy moving into position and sent word to the runners to sound the alarm.

The sorceress suspected that bombardment would last one hour or two, at most. The Emperor was no doubt keen on capturing the city in short order so that he could move on to more promising prizes, like the People's Palace. He had to know by now that the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor were no longer here. She'd spied scouts along the eastern and southern walls, and knew that they had spotted the long trains of wagons leaving the city. She could have ordered the scouts to be killed, but it mattered little what they saw.

Aydindril would fall; there was no debating the issue.

The bell stopped tolling behind her, and she narrowed her eyes, still hearing the ringing in her ears. The world around her was a little muted, but she could still hear fine enough. Besides, right now, it was her sight that was more important than her hearing.

Another ball of liquid inferno flew past, colliding with the tall edifice of one of the nearby buildings. A small causeway had been built connecting it to the bell tower. As the building collapsed in on itself, the stone bridge fell away, crumbling from bottom up until it tumbled down to the streets below.

Nicci took a deep breath and nodded. She should descend the bell tower before the next strike. Ducking her head, she turned and popped open the floor door and stepped down the ladder. Her feet hit the small landing and she spun, racing down the stairs. Slowly, her muted hearing began to return, and the crashing and explosions from outside grew louder. Reaching the base of the tower, Nicci signaled for the four men to follow her.

Darting out the bell tower and into the chaotic streets below, Nicci looked up just in time to see a large smoldering boulder collide with the tip of the structure, in nearly the very spot she had been standing.

"Come on! Run!" she shouted to the men.

She took off at a sprint, the men not far behind her, their hands clasped on their helmets as they dodged the falling debris from other buildings that were being struck by the burning projectiles. Nicci looked over her shoulder and watched as the tower seemed to sway for a moment, a terrible yawn opening up before the pointed roof tilted to an odd, unnatural angle. As the tower tipped, the ringer in the bell hit the metal and moaned a loud mournful cry as the whole structure fell into ruin.

Despite herself, a single teardrop ran down Nicci's cheek. She could not help but feel a little sadden by the sight. It was the first of many that would be seen today. She had no doubt that by the end of the day, this once vibrant and beautiful city would be leveled to nothing but ruins.

And for that… for all the beauty that would be destroyed in the name of blind obedience to strict dogma, made Nicci want to mourn for the loss to come.

XXX

Standing besides the Emperor on a makeshift wooden platform, Bree surveyed the disordered rabble that was the Imperial Order army forming into organized columns and lines, preparing to go out and die for a cause that hardly any of them truly understood or, for that matter, even cared about. Many of these men where only here for the brutal killing and spoils that came with it.

The Emperor stood tall, his large muscular bulk dwarfing almost ever man here. His powerful inky eyes staring down at the assembled throng, a small cruel smile on his thin lips. He crossed his arms over his brawny chest, covered only in a lambskin vest that looked way to small for him. His bull like neck arched slightly as he turned to glance down at a messenger. The man looked timid and afraid, despite the fact amongst normal men, he might be considered a giant of a man. The Emperor made even his powerful frame look small in comparison.

Grinning menacingly, the Emperor bent down slightly and snatched up the scroll from the messenger's hand. The man stepped back a bit, cowering.

Bree watched out of the corner of her eye as the Emperor unrolled the scroll and read it's contents.

"Appears you were right, darlin," the Emperor purred. "The defenders have placed mines of Dragon's Breath along the perimeter of the city walls." He grunted. "Typical tactic, easily overcome."

"By throwing men at it, yes," Bree snapped with a nod, bordering on contempt.

The Emperor shot her a glare, warning her to stay her tongue against such insolence. She merely shrugged her shoulders, not caring. The beast of a man scowled, but ignored her, turning back to the messenger and issuing his orders. Despite the violence in which the Emperor inflicted upon her person on almost a regular basis, none of it compared to what she had done to become initiated into the sisterhood of which she belonged.

The initiation of a Sister of the Dark was brutal and violent, terribly painfully, and humiliating. Bree was proud of herself though, she was but a handful of Sisters who had not shed a single tear during the process, despite how much she had bled from the process. The other, most notably, who had endure the entire ritual without complaint, had been Nicci—the traitor.

Her thoughts were brought back to the present when the Emperor's large hand wrapped around her waist, his fingers digging into the small of her back. "Tell me, Sister Bree," he purred into her ear. "What does you vile magic sense now?"

Bree held but a snort.  _Such hypocrites_ , she thought. This man claimed to abhor and despise magic, as did the Brotherhood of the Order, and their precious messianic leader, Brother Narev, yet they all chose to use magic to their own ends. Not to mention that the Emperor himself was a creature of magic. Granted, he was unable to use his dream walker powers right now because of the Chimes, but he still was using her magic to conduct his "holy" war against the nonbelievers.

"Well, darlin?" he sneered down at her, his grip tightening, his nails threatening to draw blood.

Clenching her jaw and stifling the pain, using all her training in endurance and willpower, Bree closed her eyes and reached out with the little magic she had left, her subtractive magic.

"Panic and disorder," she answered, almost immediately. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the Emperor, matching his powerful glare with her green eyes. "They are no match for your might, your Excellency," she grumbled.

The Emperor shifted his spread palm and tightly squeezed her bottom in his large hand. Bree bit the inside of her cheek to hold in the cry, but just the same tears formed in her eyes. He was proving his dominion over her. Swallowing hard, Bree hesitantly averted her eyes and looked away, submitting to him. His fierce and painful grip loosened and his large hand moved up her back until his fingers tangled around her neck.

He bent down, and pushed his lips up against her ear. "Remember that I am your master, darlin," he drawled out, slowly taking her ear into his mouth and grazing it along his teeth, but he did not bite. It was almost taunting, promising her that if she showed any more impudence, he would rip her ear off with his teeth.

His hot breath was moist against the side of her face, and Bree could not control herself and trembled slightly. She hated to admit it, but she had to confess that he might have broken her to his will. She was still fiercely loyal to the Eternal Father, the Keeper, but it was becoming easier for her to submit to the Emperor's will. His hold on her was that strong. She had even begun to enjoy his attentions, even if they were clumsy and inept. He knew nothing about giving pleasure. Deriving it, yes… but not giving.

"Now," he leaned back, his voice low and menacing. "Tell me about the strength of the spell shields on the walls."

Bree closed her eyes and sought out the deadly spell Nicci had placed. The bombardment had been going on for an half an hour, many of the projectiles sailing far over the walls to wreak havoc on the city's defenders. Only a handful of the catapults had been directing their bombardment towards the walls, the subtractive magic laced upon the grey stone blocks causing the boulders to disintegrate before impact.

"Very little has changed," she informed him, her voice neutral. "The bulk of your artillery is firing into the city, not at the wall. So, the shields have hardly been affected."

The Emperor gave a slow nod, stroking his jaw, his fingers running down the single dark braid of hair that ran down from his chin. "General Vicck!" he barked out.

Bree narrowed her eyes. She loathed the man, but at least he did his duty because he believed it, not because of the promises of booty. The general appeared and bowed his head, slapping his fist to his chest.

"Your Excellency?"

"Have all artillery target the center wall," the Emperor declared, giving Bree a sidelong glance with his inky black eyes. "I want a hole which our men can easily penetrate the boundaries of the city."

"At once, my Emperor," Vicck saluted, his eyes darting over to Bree for a moment before turning back around to issue out the new orders.

The Emperor turned to Bree, having noticed Vicck's eyes looking towards her. "He doesn't like you, you know," he said, his voice low so only she could hear.

Bree gave a nod of her head. "The feeling's mutual."

XXX

Cara jumped aside as the piece of a wooden windowsill fell in the street. Benjamin grabbed her arm and heaved her away as a larger piece, this time of stone, fell just where she had been standing. She glanced at him and gave a quick nod of appreciation. He gave her a wink, and released her arm.

Spinning her head around, Cara watched as the bell tower toppled in on itself, the low mourning tolls of the bell ringing out as it fell. Spirits, she hoped Nicci still wasn't up there. It wasn't exactly that she cared about the sorceress, Cara was still unsure how much she could be trusted, but the woman obviously loved Richard and was doing her best to serve him in any capacity that she could. The Mord'Sith had to give Nicci some credit though, because the former Sister of the Dark could have taken advantage of the memory blanked Seeker, but she had not. Instead, Nicci had been supportive of the Mother Confessor's efforts to help Richard retrieve and regain his memories.

Cara was pleased that the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor had fled the city for the People's Palace. She would not have wanted them here in Aydindril, especially with Kahlan's condition. She was caring the future of D'Hara in her womb, the heir to the throne. Cara knew it could not be a boy, but she had long since resigned herself to the fact that any heir produced from their union was going to be female. In fact, part of Cara liked the idea of a woman becoming the Mistress of D'Hara. Yes. She nodded. She liked that quite a lot.

Benjamin grabbed her again, pulling her out of the way as a large burning boulder came crashing down into the middle of the street. Cara blinked, startled. Had her mind really been that far away? Shaking her head, she bit her lip and told herself to focus on where she was. She was in the middle of a war zone for spirits' sake, now was not the time to let her mind meander around in thoughts other than the here and now.

Arching her neck, she looked up and watched as large comet like projectiles sailed over her head, a trail of billowing smoke behind them. Turning to watch them, she saw them impact further into the city, knocking off portions of several buildings.

Men dash by, shouting. One stopped and spoke quickly with Benjamin.

"Ben?" Cara asked softly as the man darted off.

He turned to her with a grim face. "The lookouts report that the artillery have begun shifting, taking a new aim."

"The wall," it was a statement, not a question.

Benjamin nodded. "The wall."

They continued up the street and found another squad of soldiers. Hooking around the corner, they followed them, running at half-trot until they reached the command post that the two generals had set up earlier in the day. They had moved it away from the central large square in front of the Confessor's Palace, mainly because such a position was a clear target for the artillery bombardments.

General Reibisch looked up, his rust-colored beard head covered with blacken soot or dirt. Along his glistening forehead, a tad of blood mixed with the dripping sweat. There was a small cut, probably from some falling debris. General Sheldon, wearing his Kelton green, looked equally disgruntled, his broad face set in a grim expression.

"This damn bombardment has taken out most of the city," he grumbled. "Not much will be left by the time they finally breach the walls."

"Which may be sooner rather than later," Benjamin said as they stopped in front of the small table laid out before them. Cara watched as the D'Haran captain placed two fingers down on a section of the outer wall. "According to the lookouts this is the part of the wall that the artillery are turning to take aim at."

Sheldon nodded and glanced up at Reibisch. "They know the city."

Reibisch gave out a tired harrumph. "They probably had a spy in the city long before they arrived, searching for weaknesses."

Sheldon nodded in agreement.

"Where's Nicci?" Cara asked, knowing they would need the sorceress to mount any resistance against the enemy advance.

"I'm here!" came her voice.

Cara turned and narrowed her eyes, seeing the former Sister of the Dark glide out of the smoke from a nearby fire, four men flanked out around her. She'd hardly changed; still dressed in the tight form-fitting black dress she always wore.

The sorceress ducked her head and held up her hand to shield her face as a ball of fire collided with the building across from them. "They're amassing the troops and will be attacking shortly."

"That much we've gathered," Cara said curtly, flicking a loose strand of blond hair away from her eyes. She had not bothered to undo and redo her long Mord'Sith braid when she and Benjamin went off to have some alone time. Their passion had loosened it somewhat, but not enough that it wouldn't hamper her during a fight.

Nicci eyed her red leather and raised a critical eyebrow. "You're a bold one, aren't you?"

"Huh?" Cara frowned, confused.

Nicci gestured towards her red leather. "You're going to stick out like a sore thumb. Those brutes out there have special instructions with how to deal with Mord'Sith. And since your agiel," she pointed to the red rod still attached to Cara's hip holster, "doesn't work, you won't have a means of protecting yourself."

Cara scowled and raised the short sword she'd been training with. "I have this," she nearly snapped. "I'm just as deadly with a blade as I am with an agiel,  _sorceress_. I can handle myself."

Nicci looked like she had more to say, but a hand wave from General Reibisch stopped her. He grunted, satisfied that the argument was over, for now at least, and pointed to a spot on the map.

"We'll have the bulk of the forces here," he informed them. "Just as you suggested, Sister Nicci."

"Nicci will do just fine, General," she said. "I am no longer a Sister of the Light, or a Sister of the Dark, just plain Nicci."

"Alright," he bobbed his head, and ran his hand over his balding crown, his reddish hair slick with sweat.

"How much magic can you use, Nicci?" General Sheldon asked.

Cara narrowed her eyes, wanting to know the answer as well. The sorceress furrowed her brow and knitted her perfect eyebrows together in concentration. Cara recognized the look of someone touching their gift; she'd seen it many times with the wizard. Her breath caught and she went slightly off balance. Benjamin reached out and steadied her.

"Is everything alright?" he whispered softly in her ear.

She swallowed and gave a slight nod, holding back her tears. Spirits, she hadn't realized she would miss the old wizard so much. "I'm fine," she murmured out, and swallowed again, holding back the ache. Cara had never become so attached to people as she had when she had joined Richard's merry little band. She missed him, Kahlan, and Zedd so much. In a way, as her Sisters of the Agiel had once been to her, Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd had become her family. And she missed them all so much.

"Cara?" Benjamin's hand was on the small of her back, rubbing circles comfortingly.

"I just miss them, is all," she breathed out, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, turning her attention back to the former Sister of the Dark.

"I have some abilities, yes," Nicci was saying. "But not enough to hold off an entire army." She paused, her blue eyes casting over Cara as if she had not missed anything. "Subtractive magic is still powerful enough, even with the Chimes about. I can inflict some damage on them. Best I be stationed close to the breach, once it occurs. I cannot prevent it, but I can help maintain it until we have enough soldiers to guard it."

"What then?" Sheldon scratched his eyebrow. "I mean, when we make out retreat?"

"The army is to fall back and abandon the city… let it fall to the Order," Nicci said. "Those were Lord Rahl's orders."

"And what of you?" Reibisch looked up from the map, obviously sensing the sorceress was leaving something out.

Nicci straighten her back and held her head up high. "I won't be leaving. I have to defend the Wizard's Keep."

"That's suicide," Benjamin said.

The sorceress looked at him. "That may be, but there is still a lot of dangerous artifacts held within," Nicci asserted. "And if somehow, while the Order has control of the city, and magic should be restored, then it will be very bad for them to have their hands on those artifacts."

"Then I shall stay with you," Reibisch declared, not leaving it up for debate.

Nicci looked like she wanted to object, but Cara could tell by the stern look that the general was giving the sorceress that he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Fine," Nicci said, sounding defeated.

"Then it's settled," he said with some finality, as if he'd just signed his own death warrant.

Cara could tell that the sorceress wanted to say something else, but that she was holding her tongue. Benjamin moved closer to her.

"And where do you want us?" he asked the generals.

Sheldon and Reibisch exchanged a look. "Best not tempt the Order with the sight of a Mord'Sith," the Kelton said.

Cara bristled at the statement. She wanted to be in the thick of it. And she wasn't some weakling who couldn't defend herself. She was a Mord'Sith for crying out loud. She'd endured training at the hands of the agiel. She'd suffered through Darken Rahl. She'd fought off banelings and helped the Seeker… her Lord Rahl… save the world of the living from the cold embrace of the Keeper. Spirits, she'd even helped fight off Nicci, when she was an adversary.

Giving General Sheldon a hard glare, Cara opened her mouth to give him a nasty retort when Benjamin stilled her with a hand on her arm.

"He's right, Cara," he spoke softly so that only she could hear. "They are already out for blood. Seeing you standing there in the red leather, representing something they completely hate and despise, would only inflame them more, and we don't want that."

Cara took a deep breath, and looked at him. Her insides twisted into knots, not a feeling she was used to. She didn't want to disappoint him, or do anything that might jeopardize the happiness that they shared. "I… I guess you're right," she relented, willing to concede this argument to Benjamin rather than to the general.

Reibisch gave a brief nod. "You two will take up position near the rear and help supervise the reinforcements for when the first line gets tired. Or obliterated."

"Supervise?" Cara scoffed. She was a Mord'Sith. Mord'Sith did not supervise, they commanded.

"We'll be happy to help in anyway we can," Benjamin interjected before she could say something she'd later regret.

"Right. Good," Reibisch nodded. He arched his neck and his small green eyes looked out in the direction of the central wall. A low pounding could be heard. "They've begun the attack on the walls."

"How long will those protective shields you've place up hold?" Sheldon asked Nicci.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "If I had access to both sides of the gift, I'd be more confident in the spells holding."

He gave a grim nod. "Then we best get to our stations."

Nicci nodded. "Yes," she looked towards the men who had come with her. They were still standing close, as if to guard her. Cara wondered if they were on orders from Lord Rahl to protect the sorceress. "Come. We've got some work to do."

The men bowed their heads and followed after her as she briskly walked away. General Reibisch spoke a little with Captain Meiffert, and then he took off with his retinue after Nicci. General Sheldon looked at Cara for a moment, and then nodded, turning to his lieutenants and issuing orders.

Cara was a little dazed by what had just happened. Had she really just allowed Benjamin— _a man!_ —to decide things for her? She had never acted like this before. Sure, in the past she would blindly obey and follow the orders of the Lord Rahl. But all that had changed with Richard, when in that future world she had seen what Darken Rahl's twisted vision would have done to her and her kind. And she had seen something in Richard, something that made her question everything she had been taught to believe.

Richard made her believe in herself, that her life was hers to live, that she had a right to her life and the decisions that shaped it. She had grown used to that during her time with Richard and Kahlan. She had gain back some of her humanity. And she supposed that some of that required acknowledging that eventually, if you wanted to share you're life with someone else, you had to realize that what you did affected them; that they cared for you, and wanted what was best for you, just as you wanted that for yourself.

Despite the terrible awful situation they were in, Cara smiled. Benjamin furrowed his brow, utterly confused at her broad grin, as she grabbed his arm and pulled him away, following the squads of soldiers making their way to their assigned positions. She would do what she was asked. She would follow orders, if only because it meant she got to be with Benjamin. The only man, she was slowly realizing, that she ever wanted to submit to.


	41. Breach

Arching her neck, Kahlan gazed up at the wonder before her. This was the first time, in all her life, that she ever laid eyes on the People's Palace. And she could not help but be in awe by the sheer size of the thing. A self-contained city perched high above the lonely plains, sitting on the high plateau. Kahlan would have never thought that one day she would ever be entering the People's Palace, least of all as the Lady Rahl.

Riding along side the wagon was her Richard. Before their final approach, he had changed from his simple woodsman's outfit—which she secretly adored—and dressed in his magnificent war wizard's outfit, complete with its golden cape. He looked simply marvelous and she was just in awe by him as she was by the palace city. His black stallion matched his black tunic and only seemed to magnify the aura of authority and power around him. Added to that, the gleaming silver of the Sword of Truth hung from his hip, it's brilliance glimmering in the midmorning light.

The stallion snorted and bobbed his head as Richard pulled on the reins, gaining control of the horse, who seemed to be pleased with finally being able to leave the cold windy plains in favor of a stable stall and some nice hay to lay on. Rikka and Berdine were on mares not far, both openly smiling, no doubt pleased to be returning home. Ruthy and Cynthia were seated besides Kahlan in the wagon, and both were in as much awe as she was at the sights before them.

Tall tan spirals rose up high in the air, red banners fluttering from their peaks; palisades and battlements stood tall and proud, statues and monuments also rose up around the spiraling shape of the palace city as it rose high up into the air. Kahlan could see the dome of the central palace complex. It looked just as jaw dropping as the dome on the Confessor's Palace, except it was twice as large.

The snort of Richard's stallion called Kahlan back, and she looked over, smiling as her husband directed his horse over to them. She adjusted herself in the wagon so that she could be close to the railing.

"You're looking very handsome,  _Lord Rahl_ ," Kahlan said in a low voice, grinning up at him with a mischievous grin.

"Why thank you,  _Lady Rahl_ ," Richard smirked back. He pulled the reins, making the horse skid closer to the wagon. He lowered his head and his voice. "You look particularly ravishing at this moment." He winked.

Kahlan tried to suppress the blush, but failed. "You are too kind,  _Lord Rahl_ ," she smiled back at him, biting her lower lip.

Behind her, both Cynthia and Ruthy started snickering, proving that they had overheard the two lovers. Kahlan blushed all the more brightly. Thankfully, her twin eased the awkward moment away by clearing her throat and asking Richard a question.

"So… this is you're palace?" Cynthia asked, gesturing to the tall walls and the rapidly approaching portcullis gate.

The Seeker knitted his eyebrows together, looking confused. "I… um… Kahlan?"

Kahlan nodded and gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing that he did not remember those things. She turned to her twin. "Well, you see, Cynthia, the People's Palace is actually a city. Home, not just to the Lord Rahl and his family, but to many people. From palace staffers, officials, to shopkeepers and merchants."

"A palace that is a city," Cynthia shook her head in amazement. "I have never seen such a thing. It is truly wondrous."

Richard gave a nod. "Yes, it is at that." He narrowed his eyes. "For some reason, I have vague images of coming here before."

"That's because you did, Richard… last year," Kahlan said, giving him a curious, almost hopeful look. "Are you remembering more?"

He shook his head and let out a long sad sigh. "No," he informed her, furrowing his brow and looking pensive.

Kahlan could not help but smile as his eyebrows grew closer together as he thought. She had long since memorized his expressions and mannerisms, and she adored each and every one as much as she adored and loved him. Letting out another sigh, he turned his eyes, a wisp of a smile forming on his lips.

"But, I do believe this will be the first time that you have accompanied me,  _Lady Rahl_ ," he said with a smirk.

Kahlan nodded. "Yes, it is, my  _Lord Rahl_ ," she teased back. "Perhaps we can break in that bed you told—" she suddenly stopped, remembering they were not alone.

Richard let out a soft laugh, but then his gaze darkened and Kahlan blushed, recognizing the smoldering look he was giving her. He leaned forward slightly and gave her a quick wink that she knew made promises for certain things that would happen in the evening, once they were alone, locked behind a bolted door, in their chambers. She gave him a small smile in return, indicating she was looking forward to it, as well.

"Richard!" came Zedd's voice as the old wizard and Lieutenant Zimmer came trotting over on top of their mounts.

"Zedd," Richard called back, rolling his eyes and turning his attention to his grandfather.

"Lieutenant Zimmer believes it would be wise to have you at the front of the column with the Mord'Sith flanking out around you."

Richard frowned.

Kahlan knew he wanted to stay close to her, but she shook her head when he looked over, knowing that Zedd was right. "I'm okay here," she told him, sitting back and running her hands over her swollen belly. "Cynthia and Ruthy are with me, and you know Rikka will not let me out of her sight."

He gave a reluctant nod. "Just… if you need me, don't hesitate to send a rider up to the front to tell me, alright?"

"Yes, Richard," she gave a nod, smiling at his over protectiveness. "Now go and be the Lord Rahl!"

His lips curled slightly and he pulled the reins of his mount, forcing the stallion to inch even closer to the wagon. Kahlan heaved herself up and gripped the railing to lean over. Richard freed one of his hands and reached up to palm her cheek in his hand and capturing her lips in a tender yet intense kiss.

"Anything at all," he murmured, backing away. "And you send a rider."

Kahlan smiled blissfully, having very much enjoyed the kiss. "Yes, Richard. Now go before I change my mind about tonight."

Richard laughed softly, giving her a playful smirk, before whipping the reins and squeezing his legs, sending his stallion galloping away with Zedd and Zimmer on his tail. Kahlan leaned against the railing, watching the dust flowing up behind them. Never would she have thought she'd ever want to get inside the People's Palace as quickly as she did now. Oh… how she could not wait until this evening!

XXX

Nicci stood next to General Reibisch, watching as the soldiers lined up in tight columns, awaiting the final strike. Ahead of them were the grey stone blocks that made up the city wall. The low thudding of projectiles being pummeled against the subtractive shields she'd placed upon the wall was a steady drum, one that was growing more and more unnerving with its frequency and force.

However, the assault was not entirely focused on the wall. Glowing spheres of burning hot fire still sailed overhead and collided with buildings further in the city. Soldiers stationed back there had long ago given up attempting to stop those fires. Such a course of action was futile, considering that everyone knew that the city would eventually fall to the Order.

Standing next to her, General Reibisch was focused on the battlements up on top of the wall, where some men were stationed. They were keeping low and out of sight from the enemy, occasionally signaling down to inform the commanding officers what was happening. Reibisch scowled when he recognized a signal.

"It is as you suspected, Nicci," he said in a flat voice, almost devoid of emotion. "The explosions and plumes of smoke we saw earlier were from the Dragon's Breath mines we had scattered in the hilly area. They lost a lot of men getting through, but now they have a gap that they can freely bring forth the rest of their host."

Nicci gave a nod, having already guessed that, plus she had felt the deaths thanks to her subtractive magic. "Yes, I know. I've sensed it."

Reibisch narrowed his eyes. "Is there anything else you've sensed?"

His question seemed out of the blue, but Nicci had a feeling that he was going somewhere with this. Perhaps he thought she was holding something back, which she was. Knitting her eyebrows together, she stared hard at the grey stones of the wall ahead of them.

"There is one of my former Sisters out there," she said. "And like me, she has access to subtractive magic."

"I know," Reibisch said, inclining his head and running a hand through the slick rust-colored hair that still grew on his balding crown.

She smirked. "I thought as much."

"The sentries spotted a woman in robes walking alongside that beast of a man you described as the Emperor," the general informed her. "They spied her performing her magic." He shook his head. "Gruesome sights were what they saw… can you do the same as her?"

Nicci thought for a moment on how to respond. Her smile turned down. "Much worse," was her answer.

There was a suddenly sickening howling noise and Nicci stiffen, knowing what it was. Reibisch noticed her change and his hand went down to the pommel of his sword.

"Nicci?" he questioned as the howling stopped.

"An alarm, of sorts," Nicci answered, knitting her eyebrows together. She turned and looked at him, seeing the confusion written all over his face. A soft smile touched her lips. "It is not standard to imbue spells with auditory alarms, so I crafted the spell into the only sound I could think of… a wolf's howl."

"So the spell protecting the wall...?"

"Is gone, yes."

The next sound that came was a loud cracking noise that shook them all down to their bones. The soldiers before them visibly shuddered from the sound, the metal of their armor clinking together as they shifted their weight from foot to foot. Nicci grimaced when another boulder struck the wall and part of the crenellation fell off the battlements. The soldiers who had been stationed there were withdrawing, some on unsteady legs. Suddenly a projectile, a large spear from a ballista, shot up through the air and impacted one of the fleeing men. He was impaled and blood burst everywhere as he collapsed, the large iron spear sticking out of his back and through his chest, preventing him from fully falling.

The sight was horrid, yet Nicci could not take her eyes away from it. She had seen much worse, but something about this touched her more than anything else. Struggling, she averted her eyes and turned back to the general. Reibisch immediately issued out orders, sending a quad back up on the battlement to take the man down. He looked over at her. "I know it is an empty gesture with the deaths that are about to come once the wall is breached, but it will not help the men to see such things before it begins in earnest."

Nicci gave a nod, agreeing with his assessment. "Very prudent, yes."

Another boulder struck the wall, and Nicci watched as the quad did quick work of taking the dead soldier down. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and reached out with her Han, using her subtractive magic to sense the other in the vicinity. Touching it, she shuddered and shook, coughing and wincing at the darkness it engendered.

"Are you alright, Nicci?" Reibisch asked, worried.

"I'm fine, General," Nicci reassured him, touched by his concerned. Not too many people had showed her true compassion in her life, and she found it both sad and reassuring to finally have it.

Bree's Han was dark and twisted, and Nicci was curious if her own had felt like that when she had served the Keeper and committed evil acts in His name. Blinking back the stinging tears of pain from the connection with such a tormented and vile Han, Nicci looked up at the wall, watching as pieces at the top began to crumble away. Soon, very soon, the wall would break and a horde of brutes would storm through, slaughtering anyone who stood in the way of their promised plunder.

A thought suddenly struck Nicci as her eyes glanced upwards towards the dark grey clouds heading towards them.

"That storm will reach us before the breach," she absently spoke aloud, not truly directing the statement at anyone, just saying it.

XXX

Scanning the carcasses that lined the gap in the small hilly area, Bree snarled in disgust. The Emperor had had little qualms about sending waves upon waves of men into the minefield, knowing that they would die. But what disturbed her the most was the fanatical, almost eager, way in which some of those men ran to their deaths. There was a time she would have been as they had, rushing heedlessly to her own demise, but back then she had been serving the Keeper, her Eternal Father.

And she would still gladly leave this world of warmth and flesh to be in His cold embrace, because there was nothing more that she longed for than to be with the Keeper. But He had plans in this world, and so far those plans included siding with the Emperor and his misguided Imperial Order.

The Emperor snaked his arm around her small waist and tugged her closer to his brawny chest. She narrowed her eyes and ignored his fingers as they dug into her flesh. "Does this not excite you, darlin?" he purred in a sick voice of pleasure. "The stench of blood and decaying flesh?"

"More souls for the Keeper, nothing more," she said passively, ignoring the way his hand caressed her bottom through the silken robes she wore.

Bree arched her head away from him as his hot breath came down to her neck and his mouth was sucking on her skin. The first hints of the storm that was to come struck the top of her head and she flicked her eyes up towards the gloom that was the grey clouds above. She could not help but think how appropriate it was that Aydindril, a beacon of light and life for so many years in the Midlands, would fall on a day that was cloudy and dark.

The darkness was going to triumph over the light, and she would have a front row seat to it.

"My Excellency," called General Vicck, and Bree found herself actually thankful for hearing the man's voice.

The Emperor growled at the interruption to his pleasure and pulled away from her. "What is it, General?"

"We have broken through the magical shield protecting the wall," the general informed them. "It should not be long until the wall is breached."

The Emperor smiled wickedly, his previous anger at being interrupted from his debauchery forgotten. "Good… good," he rubbed his chin, stroking the thin strand of braided hair that hung from it. "Have the ballistas brought up. I want death to rain down on those fools inside just as it shall rain from the sky."

Vicck saluted and went off, his fur cloak picking up in his fast movements. Bree stared after him, wondering if he would have been a more worthy leader for such a force as the Order had at its disposal. The man believed in the cause, and that they were doing the work of the righteous. He was not a hypocrite as Jagang was. Perhaps that was the reason Brother Narev had selected Jagang to be the Emperor. Jagang could be manipulated, where as Vicck was a staunch supporter.

Bree nodded. Supporters of a belief did not make good leaders, since they were destined for following. That was why she had never been the leader of the Sisters of the Dark. She was a fervent believer of their cause, whereas the others were there for the power. Bree was the one to fear the most, because of the depth of her belief. There had been a time that Nicci had been like that, too. But then she had become obsessed with the Seeker, and her obsession changed her, made her no longer capable of command, of being followed.

"Is  _she_  in there, Sister Bree?" the Emperor purred into her ear, his large hand gripping her bottom so hard it hurt.

Suppressing a gasp of pain, and holding back the sting of tears, Bree gave a brief nod. " _She_  is, my lord" she told him. " _She_  will be found by the breach, I have no doubt."  _The bitch thinks she can hold back my powers, she'll be sorely mistaken_ , she added to herself in her own thoughts.

If there was anyone she hated more than the Seeker and Mother Confessor, it was Nicci. Bree loathed her with a passion, and was secretly looking forward to seeing the Emperor rip her apart as he took her in the brutal fashion in which he had taken Bree countless of times before. Simply seeing the pain and anguish on the former Sister of the Dark's face as she begged for death would be a reward unto itself.

XXX

The entire ground shook like a great quake as the wall crumbled and fell apart, the gaping maw of death opening up to them. The rain had begun a half hour ago and it was hard against her, soaking her black dress and making her long blond hair stick to her back. The thickness of the falling water obscured her vision somewhat, as did the dust and debris from the fallen wall, but Nicci could still make out the shadowy forms of the Imperial Order soldiers rushing through the newly made opening in the wall.

"Stand back!" she shouted out against the clamor of rain against metal.

Reibisch issued out the order as well, and the sea of men parted, allowing her an unobstructed path to the breach in the wall. Raising her hand up, Nicci summoned up all the power of the Underworld that she could still wield. The Chimes of Death may have sapped her of most of her magic, but she still held the magic of the dark netherworlds from whence it had come.

Letting out a cry, feeling the hurt and agony of what she was about to do, Nicci sent a blast of black lightning out into the cloud of falling debris. She no longer relished killing, even those who deserved it. Richard had taught her, and she had listened. Killing should always be used as a last resort, an option when nothing else was necessary. The Seeker himself, though, would kill indiscriminatingly when it came to the protection of the innocent, or when his beloved was threatened. He had no qualms in taking a life, especially when it was warranted.

Steeling herself, Nicci scowled and focused her thoughts on the task at hand. These men would not hesitate to take her down and brutalize her in the most heinous ways before killing her. They deserved no mercy, no regrets, in their deaths.

They deserved to die for the crimes they had committed and had yet to commit.

Nicci's mind was focused and clear. She felt no sorrow for these men. They would have given her none.

Another bolt of black lightning discharged from her outstretched palm and she smiled with satisfaction as she heard the shrill cries of the men she was sending into the cold embrace of the Keeper.

XXX

Cara stumbled somewhat when she heard the roar of the wall collapsing, knowing it meant that the assault had fully begun. She tensed and unconsciously reached for her agiels even though she knew that they would be useless. A hand touched her arm and she flicked her hard eyes up, only to soften when she saw the owner of that hand.

"It will be okay, Cara," Benjamin tried to reassure her. "We all know our duty and the plan."

She nodded and moved her hand, shifting it away from the useless red rods that usually held so much deadly magic that they could bring the strongest of men to his knees. Cara hated the plan. She thought it was stupid and moronic. Why make a stand in defense of a city, sacrificing so much, when you had planned to retreat at the last possible moment? Nicci had tried to explain it to her, that they were buying time for Richard and Kahlan to make it safely to the People's Palace, but even with that, Cara was still doubtful of it.

And now that the walls had finally been breached, she was anxious to join in on the fight. She wanted to feel the rush of adrenalin, the heat of battle, and the satisfaction of striking down your enemy before they could strike at you. But she would feel none of those things stuck back here with the reinforcements.

Cara gritted her teeth and brooded. She knew what was going on. They were trying to protect her. Scoffing and rolling her eyes at it, she stomped away from Benjamin, crossing her arms and glaring hard at a fixed point in the grey horizon. She did not need protection. She would gladly die in the service of her Lord Rahl… of Richard, even if it meant she never got to feel Benjamin's embrace ever again, his love.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself not to cry. Benjamin and her had yet to truly make love. Sex was not making love. They were entirely different things. Sure, they both loved one another, he probably more than she, but what they did was not lovemaking, not like how she knew Richard and Kahlan united and became one. That was what Cara wanted… the connection, the slow and tender melding of their bodies as they sought to unite their souls, and not the rough heated passionate search for mutual pleasure, which was what she had only allowed with Benjamin. She knew he desired more, that he would make love to her if she allowed him too.

The sounds of crackling lightning made Cara stiffen. She recognized that sound, it was the sounds of Sister Nicci casting that terrible deadly magic at the enemy. She scowled, feeling even more useless now. Her mind drifted and she thought of Benjamin. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him talking with the men, making preparation for the eventual time they would have to join the fight or flee, which ever came first. As he talked with them, his eyes drifted up and locked with hers for just a moment. She saw longing in those eyes, and love, a deep love that both startled and frightened her.

Cara was afraid of loving him, of giving herself fully to him. Yet now, watching as the rain descended on them all, soaking everyone, the Mord'Sith knew that she was fighting a losing battle. Her heart ached to feel what Kahlan felt when Richard touched her, when he kissed her, when he made love to her. Turning her head away, Cara glared out at nothing. She would survive this, she knew, because that was the plan. But whatever life held for her in the future, she was determined that she would give in one day, that she would allow Benjamin to touch both her heart and soul in the same way which Richard touched Kahlan's.

Letting out a soft rueful laugh, Cara sighed and looked up into the sky, letting the rain cleanse her face.  _At least fires would not consume the city_ , she thought with a slight bitter humor. Glancing back at Benjamin, she felt a little guilt at how she had shrugged him off when all he was trying to do was to help and reassure her. And despite her decision to eventually submit to the feelings that were consuming her heart for him, she could not bring herself to accept his comfort right now. She was still Mord'Sith. And she wanted to be in the thick of battle, doing something more useful than standing around waiting for the end.


	42. Palace

Watching as Rikka and Berdine greeted their fellow Mord'Sith in the large square, Kahlan accepted the help of her sister Cynthia and her maidservant Ruthy, as she disembarked from the wagon. After some soldiers and palace staff removed the luggage that had accompanied Kahlan in the back of the wagon, the driver whipped the reins and the wooden carriage creaked, lurching away from them and towards the stables. Kahlan stood in the large square, looking up at all the towering structures around her. The tanned stone gleamed in the morning sunlight, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The entire palace city was a marvel to the eye. It was almost hard to believe that men had built this place.

"Richard! About bloody time!" chortled Nathan. The prophet was descending a large stone staircase from up above, having just emerged from the tremendous large bronze doors.

The old man practically skipped down the stairs, very lithe and sprightly for his age. Kahlan smiled softly, watching Richard's kin embrace him. Richard had very few blood relatives, besides Zedd and Nathan. But his family was large. They're extended family just kept seeming to grow. And in about four months, there would be one more. Smiling at the thought, Kahlan ran her hand along her swollen belly, noting the looks of awe from many of the D'Harans gathered in the square to watch the arrival of the Lord Rahl and Lady Rahl.

She knew that many of them were still in amazement that their Lord Rahl had married the Mother Confessor, loved her, bedded her, and gotten her with child, all without becoming confessed. It only seemed to heighten the awe and amazement with which they looked at Richard, who also looked extremely impressive in his gold and black war wizard's outfit.

Presently, Zedd was greeting Nathan; the two old men seemed almost like brothers with the way they embraced. Lieutenant Zimmer was speaking with one of the palace guards, presumably the commander of the garrison stationed at the People's Palace.

Richard turned from Nathan and Zedd, who were both jabbering away excitedly about something. She met his eyes and smiled warmly, feeling the love pass between them without the need for words. There never was with them. Even with his amnesia, Richard was still her Richard. He gave her the most brilliant smile, before being pulled away by Zedd and Nathan, the two older men looking very excited about something.

Kahlan sighed, wishing she could go with him, but she was tired and exhausted from their long travel. But perhaps she should greet the people, on his behalf, since she was the Lady Rahl. Turning, she put a warm smile on her face and stepped over to the crush of people being held back behind a line of the First File. Rikka and Berdine immediately took in a step behind her, along with Cynthia and Ruthy.

The people seemed stunned and greatly humbled that she would take the time to greet them personally. Some even knelt down in reverence to her position as the Mother Confessor. The gestured touched her that these people, who were not from the Midlands, would give her such respect that was due to her as the Mother Confessor. But she wanted more to be accepted as the Lady Rahl, as the queen of D'Hara, the royal consort of the Lord Rahl… the wife of Richard Rahl.

She listened to some of them and thanked those who offered warm wishes and hopes for the future that she carried within her, the heir to the throne of D'Hara, the child of the Lord Rahl. Kahlan smiled and nodded, silently hoping that they would be okay with only girls, as she could never give Richard a son, because such a thing was truly a nightmare… even if she did wish she could give him a son. But Richard, both past and present, had assured her that he didn't care. If he could only have daughters with her, then he wanted a houseful of daughters.

When she was finished greeting the people, the Mord'Sith ushered her away. Kahlan arched her neck up and over her shoulder, as they led her towards a door, glancing up the tall staircase, seeing Richard ascending it alongside Zedd, Nathan, and Lieutenant Zimmer. She sighed, wishing that she could be besides him, but that staircase looked a little too steep for her in her present condition, and she was not willing to risk anything with Daphne growing inside of her.

"Oh," she yelped quietly, feeling her daughter kick. Cynthia looked over worriedly, but them softened, smiling, as she recognized the blissful expression forming on her sister's face at having felt her child move from within.

Placing her hand on her belly, feeling Daphne move, Kahlan allowed the Mord'Sith to take her into the lower entrance of the Lord Rahl's private living quarters. The hallways were all luxurious, appointed with rich red carpets and gleaming silver lamps, which illuminated the corridors in a warm orange glow. As they walked along, at a nice slow pace for Kahlan's benefit, she gazed at all the grand sculptures and painting that lined the walls.

Cynthia stayed close to her, and Kahlan reached over to hold her hand, wanting to have her sister close in this strange place. She trusted Rikka, Berdine, and the other Mord'Sith, but it was stills odd, and a little unnerving, to be walking down the very same corridors that Darken Rahl had probably roamed when he had been the Lord Rahl. As they passed ostentatious doors, leading to sumptuous private rooms, Kahlan could not help but imagine the terrible things that might have occurred within them. No doubt, many of the Mord'Sith with her had either been witnesses or victims in some of those rooms, all at the hands of Darken Rahl.

They turned a corner and entered a large banquet hall decorated in fine gold and silver tapestries. Gilded latticework and marble statuary covered almost all the niches between the tall carved columns along the sides of the hall. The long ebony tables were covered in silver cutlery and fine porcelain. Lush green plants adorn the room, as well, and white wild flowers from the plains below had been placed at regular intervals in richly detailed green-glass vases along the tabletop. Two large hearths, each with roaring fires, paralleled each other and either side of the room. Above them, dangling from the rafters above, were large gilded chandeliers.

The Mord'Sith cut a path across the room, the serving staff, obviously in the middle of setting the hall up for a large banquet later in the day, parted, allowing them through. Many casted awed, slack-jawed expression when they saw the Mother Confessor in the middle of the sea of red leather. They also looked stunned at the appearance of a person who looked identical to the Mother Confessor walking alongside her. Kahlan smiled at them all, which left them all even more befuddled and amazed.

As they departed the room, Kahlan caught the sounds of gossip to rise amongst the staff. She blushed slightly, never having really been the subject of gossip in the past... at least she thought so. She never knew.

After passing through some adjacent rooms, they arrived at another inner hall with a gradually sloped winding staircase, which led up to the level that Richard was on. Cynthia and Ruthy each held one of her hands as they ascended the stairs. Kahlan was breathing heavily by the time they reached the top landing, and she was beginning to wonder how she would manage to make it down and back up again for the banquet that was obviously being planned to welcome the Lord and Lady Rahl to the People's Palace.

Exiting the landing, Rikka and Berdine led the way down the corridor, taking Kahlan and her party to the private quarters, the place in the People's Palace that was solely for the Lord Rahl and his family. Berdine jogged up ahead, her buxom frame bouncing. They encountered the soldiers of the First File, and the Mord'Sith, who had been following Richard. They all parted, allowing Kahlan and her group through.

Finally, they met up with Richard and the others, in what appeared to be a large study. It was not a library, but it still had a large amount of shelves, stacked high with ancient tomes and scrolls. Richard spun on his heels when she entered, breaking off his conversation with the old prophet, and smiled, closing the distance between them in a matter of moments.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her temple, smiling down at her, as she smiled back. She eased into his hold, still tired from the climb up the staircase. Seeming to sense her fatigue, Richard led her over to the chair behind the large mahogany desk. Kahlan plopped down into the cushioned chair and sighed, closing her eyes and relaxing into the cozy chair.

"So where are Warren and Verna?" Richard asked, as he turned back to his conversation with Nathan.

"Verna was filling a little… um… under the weather," Nathan said, smiling knowingly. "Warren took her back to their chambers for a midmorning nap."

"Is she alright?" Kahlan asked, opening her eyes, concerned for her friend.

"Oh, she's quite fine, my dear," Nathan said, nodding, his Rahl eyes brightening up a bit.

"What is it?" Kahlan questioned, not needing her confessor's intuition to know that the prophet was holding something back.

Nathan took a deep breath and exchanged a looked with Nyda, the tall muscular Mord'Sith who had accompanied Richard up the flight of stairs outside in the square. She gave a nod, and a small knowing smile, indicating he should divulge the information to the Lord and Lady Rahl.

Looking back and forth between Richard and Kahlan, Nathan let out a breath, and allowed his smile to take over his face. "That stubborn Sister of the Light is with child," he said, grinning broadly.

"Oh…," was all Richard said, looking somewhat stunned. He looked back at Kahlan, moving closer, reaching down to intertwine his hand with hers. Kahlan squeezed his hand, remembering how he had told her that he and Zedd had presided over Verna's marriage to the young wizard Warren.

"Daphne will have someone to play with then," Kahlan said, more loudly than she had intended.

The room fell silent. Zedd and Nathan exchanged some looks and Lieutenant Zimmer and all the Mord'Sith looked bemused. Kahlan held her breath, afraid she had spoken too soon, and that Richard had wanted to keep their choice of name private until the birth. She looked up at Richard, beseeching him with pleading eyes to forgive her for her slip. He squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"Daphne?" Zedd questioned, looking at them with a large smile, as Kahlan ran her hand over her enlarged belly.

"Our daughter," Richard confirmed.

"Of course, yes," Nathan nodded. "Delightful name."

"Thank you," Kahlan smiled and eased into Richard's side as he moved closer to her in her chair.

"Now… back to the matter at hand," Nathan said, quickly changing topics, which Kahlan was silently thankful for.

She felt extremely embarrassed for having revealed the name she and Richard had decided on without having discussed it with him before hand. She was working hard at suppressing her blushing, and used her long dark hair to cover her face as she continued rubbing her belly, suddenly feeling very hungry.

"Could you hold on for a second, Nathan," Richard spoke up, sounding slightly irritated with the old prophet. He turned and knelt down next to Kahlan, brushing her hair away from her face. "You alright, Kahlan?"

"I… I'm fine, Richard," she reassured him, giving him a small smile. "Just a little tired and hungry is all."

He nodded. "Let's get you settled in our chambers and then we'll have someone bring you some food, okay."

She nodded. "Alright."

Richard turned back to the others. "Let me get my wife settled and comfortable, then I'll come back and we'll continue this discussion."

"Of course," Nathan said, bobbing his head, stepping back and gesturing to Zedd to follow him. The two old wizards moved away from the group and started talking in hushed voices.

"Sorry about that," Richard murmured softly as he helped her back to her feet.

"Don't worry, Richard, I'm fine, really," she smiled as his arm wrapped around her ever-growing waist, his fingers playing over her belly, as if caressing the child within, soothing it.

With Nyda, Rikka, and Berdine surrounding them, Richard ushered Kahlan out of the study after giving some orders to Lieutenant Zimmer to see to the men. She leaned into him, leaning her weary head against his chest as he held her close. They slowly made their way down the corridor, and came to stop before a large door that opened up to an opulent room beyond. Kahlan's eyes grew wide as she looked at the accommodations. Not even her chambers in the Confessor's Palace were this luxurious.

Richard led her through the entry way and into the bedchambers, the others waited behind in the corridor outside, closing the door behind them. Upon seeing the bed, she grinned widely. It was large and looked oh so comfortable. Richard laid her down on the bed and Kahlan let out a sigh. It was so very comfortable, exactly like how Richard had described it to her when he had come back from his first visit. Then again, this Richard did not probably remember that.

"I remember coming here," he said, as if hearing her thoughts, sitting down on the edge of the bed, running a hand down the side of her face, brushing her hair away and cupping her cheek. "But I honestly don't remember the room being… being…"

"So ostentatious?" Kahlan put forth.

A smile cracked his face and he laughed. "I was going to say extravagant."

"Does it bother you?" Kahlan asked, knitting her eyebrows together, worried.. "I mean... you grew up as a simple woods guide… as you always seem to like to remind me."

Richard sighed and caressed her cheek. She closed her eyes and eased into his hand. "I don't care where I live," he declared. "As long as it is with you. We could be in a hut made of mud or this palatial suite, and I'll be fine. All I need is you."

Kahlan laughed and looked away for a moment.

"What's so funny?" he furrowed his brow in puzzlement.

"The mud hut!" Kahlan chuckled.

"What about it?"

Kahlan recovered from her giggles and shifted onto her side to look more directly at him. His eyebrows rose, waiting for her to answer.

"Do you remember when we stayed with the Mud People last year?" she inquired.

He shook his head, his eyes darkening a bit. "Some, but all I remember is playing around with you in some mud puddle, and then going to the Spirit House."

"You don't remember the mud hut they gave us?" she asked. "Because, if I'm remembering this correctly, they said it was our home whenever we chose to visit them. After all, we are honorary mud people."

"Oh, so you're saying that we do have a mud hut to live in, then," he chuckled softly, finding seeing her point.

"Yes, exactly!" Kahlan beamed. "So, if this room is too much for you, we can always move into that mud hut in the Mud People's village."

Richard laughed and shook his head, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. "This room is fine… I think we'll stay," he whispered and then captured her lips in a sweet kiss. "Besides," he continued, backing away to breath. "This room has a nice comfy bed for certain activities that I know you've been dying to do."

"Later tonight?" she asked hopefully, raising her eyebrows.

"You're not too tired?" he asked, shaking his head at her.

"For you… I'll never be tired," she asserted, fisting his shirt in her hand and pulling him back down for another kiss.

Richard shifted, pulling his feet off the floor and spreading out next to her, his hands ran down her sides. One hand went down her back and grabbed a handful of her backside, while his other reached up to cup one of her full breasts, already growing heavy with milk for when the baby came. Kahlan moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue dipped out and licked the sensuous curve of her neck. He wrapped his lips around her, sucking on her pulse point, driving her senses wild.

His hand tugged her closer and she groaned when her belly prevented her from moving closer. Leaning back against the pillow, she let out a curse and huffed in frustration.

Richard shifted, propping himself up on his elbow. He looked down at her with a bemused expression and twirled his fingers around in her long tresses. "Don't be so frustrated, Kahlan," he said, moving his fingers to caress her cheek.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I… I just can't make love to you like I used to… not… not with her inside me right now."

"It's okay," Richard assured her. "I'll love you how ever I can."

Kahlan gave out a breathy laugh and rolled her head back. "How can you even find me that attractive?" she questioned, noticing the lingering shadows of lust in his eyes as he gazed back at her.

Richard laughed and shook his head at her. He ran his hand down her cheek and across her jaw, slipping it along the curve of her neck until he was skimming his fingers over the swell of her bosom as she breathed in. "You're always beautiful to me, Kahlan," he said, trying to reassure her.

"But wouldn't you rather I looked like Cynthia?" she asked, unable to keep her mouth shut.

"Kahlan, oh Kahlan," he shook his head at her silliness. He shifted his hand and ran his palm over her breasts, causing her breath to hitch up as the fabric rubbed against her flesh as he moved his hand over her dress. "She is not you. I want you… Kahlan Amnell. Not Cynthia."

Kahlan let out a breath that she did not know she had been holding in. Richard moved and his mouth crashed against hers. His tongue pushed past her quivering lips as he devoured her, his hand grabbed a hold of one of her breasts and squeezing it slightly, reinforcing his statement that it was only her and her that he wanted. His other hand was rubbing one of her legs, pushing its way up her skirt.

"Richard…?" she breathed out in a whimper as her body shook and trembled under his touch as his wandering hand found its mark.

Her eyes closed and her mouth opened, a breathy hot moan escaping her throat as Richard sucked on her neck, his fingers exploring her most intimate of regions. His thumb moved up and she gasped as he touched her special place. He smiled against her neck and began to vigorously stimulate her as he continued to devour her supple flesh. His other hand moved up her chest and pushed its way under the neckline of her dress.

"Dear spirits… Richard," she groaned, unconsciously rolling her hips as his fingers found their way inside her.

Richard moved his moist lips up the slender turn of her neck and sucked on her earlobe. "Your gorgeous, Kahlan," his moist breath breathed against her sensitive skin behind her ear. "And I love you and you alone."

He leaned back and shifted down, kissing his way down her body. Her chest heaved and her breasts strained against the confines of her dress. Richard kissed the fleshy top of her bosom, his other hand still working it's way further into her top, massaging and exploring her chest. The strings strained and he unlaced them, exposing her upper body to his hungry eyes. His mouth descended upon her, trailing blazoning out trails across her chest.

Kahlan moaned and arched her back, pushing her chest into his mouth as he captured one of her nipples and sucked on her teasingly. His other hand was still working her hard between her legs, and her body was slowly becoming numb with the pleasure coursing through her veins. Richard always had this affect on her whenever he touched her.

She fisted her hands in his hair as he continued to devour her breasts, giving both equal attention. His hand between her thighs began to increase in rhythm as her hips rolled on their on accord. Kahlan gasped and shivered, feeling a tingling and warm feeling coalesce in her middle. His two fingers spread her and he added a third, digging deeper into her as she writhed under his ministrations.

There was a tiny part of her that felt guilty that he was giving her so much pleasure and that she had yet to return any of it. But as his fingers kept diving into her, and his thumb continued its torment of her special place, Kahlan's guilt faded into the oblivion as she surrendered to the blissful rapture Richard was building up in her body.

Her breath came in hot gasps as she struggled to murmur his name, knowing how much he loved the sound of his name on her lips in the heat of ecstasy. He moved his body closer to her and she could feel his need digging into her side as he continued to concentrate solely on her, ignoring his own wants and needs. Her heart swelled near bursting at the depths of his love for her, knowing that he would gladly ignore his own want for release to give her what she needed.

His lips danced up her chest and back to her neck. Richard grounded his hot mouth against her pulse point, and his fingers dug deeply into her. She squeezed her muscles, grasping at his fingers as they moved back. Spirits, she wanted to feel him again… to feel him make her his.

"Richard," she gasped, moving one of her hands down his back and reaching for his trousers.

He shifted himself away from her and leaned back, ceasing his movements for a moment. "No," he commanded in a hot breathy voice. "This is about you, Kahlan." Richard moved his hand over her hair, pushing it back from her face. Before she could open her mouth to object, to say that she wanted him inside her, he captured her mouth with his, silencing whatever objections she had in mind.

His hand began to move with purpose again, driving into her, and within moments she was going over the edge, crying his name softly as tears of ecstasy flowed down her face. Her body trembled as he held her throughout her high. It amazed her how he could do this to her without ever once making that most special of connections.

"Why?" she murmured, after she came down from her release, her breath still moist and heavy. "Why do you always give me more than I deserve?"

"You deserve all which I give… all that I am," Richard replied, his hand still between her legs, rubbing her inner thigh tenderly. "All I need his your love, Kahlan… and the gift you are carrying inside you." His hand on her chest migrated down and ran over the swell of her belly.

Kahlan watched in amazement as his warm brown eyes began to grow moist and soft. Tears dripped down his cheeks as she reached up to gently wipe them away, brushing them away with kisses and delicate fingers.

"I have nothing but you and our daughter," he whimpered, shaking slightly as he held her, moving both his hands up to hold her belly. "I may be the Lord Rahl… but, Kahlan… I don't know what that means, and what I am. Not without you. You two are the only things that ground me in this life."

"You're just saying that because your memory loss," she said, trying to reassure him.

He shook his head. "I know I'd feel the same with my memories intact," he declared. "I know that before you came into my life, I was lost… with no direction and no purpose. You gave me both. And you saved me, filling that empty space in my heart I never knew existed until I needed you." He swallowed hard and his watery eyes gazed deeply into hers. "You are my other half… my better half. And you deserve everything that I can give…  _everything_."

Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers, pulling her into the most intense and consuming kiss he had ever given her. Her eyes closed and she let go, allowing herself to simply be in the moment. The last time Richard had kissed her like this had been when they had been separated during his time in the Palace of the Prophets and the Valley of Perdition. She had thought that that kiss had been intense and passionate, but it paled in comparison to the kiss he was now giving her.

Surrendering her heart to him had been hard, but she had had no idea how much it had tormented and pained him to not be able to give her everything he wanted to. Kahlan had thought she had been the one struggling with not being able to give him what he deserved, what any other woman could have given him. But now… now, even with his memories stolen, he had still held that fear that he, Richard Rahl, was not enough for her, that he… that he did not deserve to have her.

As they broke away, by necessity, not by want, Kahlan sucked in a breath and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, still feeling his burning need digging into her side. "We each are the same," Kahlan murmured softly. "Each afraid that the other is too good for the other. Well, we're not, Richard! We… we are perfect for each other. We each fulfill what the other wants, what the other needs. We… we…," her voice trailed off as she thought of the words to describe it, but it was difficult. Their love could not be defined or labeled. Words just weren't enough.

"We complete each other," Richard finished, nodding in understanding.

"Yes, exactly," Kahlan bobbed her head, smiling slightly. She pulled him back for a sweet gentle kiss, one of reassurance, not passion and need.

Pushing him back, Kahlan used all her strength to roll him over onto his back, pinning him beneath her straddling legs on the mattress. It had been harder to do than she had thought it would be, what with her belly in the way, but she had still managed it, and her spine tingled with promise and anticipation when he did not protest.

Kahlan shifted off of him when she was sure that he was not going to move away from her. Sliding down his body, she grabbed at the buckle of his belt with shaking hands, her need to connect with him in that most intimate of ways overriding all her judgment.

She glanced up at him from under her eyebrows, her eyes darkening with lust and wanton desire. "Now let me give you what you have given me, my Richard," she murmured, slowly unbuckling his belt and working the laces on his black trousers until he was free.

For a moment, Richard looked like he wanted to object and say that this had all been about giving her what she had needed and not him. However, Kahlan would have none of that. Not now. Not when she so desperately wanted to feel him inside her. Pulling him fully from his trousers, she wrapped her fingers around his strong desire for her and stroked him hard. Richard let out a groan and his head lulled back against the pillow as he submitted to her ministrations.

Feeling him firm and ready in her hand, Kahlan climbed back up over him and used her legs to hold herself up. Hiking up her skirts and bunching them around her, she reached around her enlarged belly and grabbed a hold of him, directing him to her moist center. Shifting a hand up to his chest for support, Kahlan lowered herself over him, feeling him connect with her. She knitted her eyebrows together and let out a low moan of pleasure at feeling him fill her.

Slowly, resting herself on him, Kahlan began to sway her hips back and forth, going steady and gradual, wanting it to last as long as possible. Richard groaned and his hands gripped her hips, helping her to move. And despite the swell of her belly, she managed to get more friction than she thought she'd be able to, which only increased her arousal and need to be with him.

"Oh spirits… Kahlan," Richard spoke through panted breaths after a minute or two.

His hands shifted over her body, feeling her in all the right places. She used her hands to keep herself level on him as she swayed. Kahlan would have wanted to buck more wildly, but her belly prevented it, and the best she could manage was the gentle yet incessant sway of her hips, digging him deeper and deeper into her with each movement.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure she was deriving from this, which was much more than she had thought it would be, considering the girth of her expanding belly. Her daughter was certainly going to be a big baby. But what startled her most, other than the fact she was able to keep up the movement over Richard, was his never waning arousal and desire for her despite her own worrying about her appearance and attractiveness.

This wasn't the most intense or passionate lovemaking they had ever done, it was more slow and steady than anything else, but she could tell by the way Richard looked at her, and the method in which his hands felt her body, that he was enjoying himself.

"Well," he coughed out in a languid breath, as he began to move his hips with her, helping to drive him further into her, connecting with her center in a way that made her tremble above him. "I guess… we'll break the bed in a bit earlier than planned."

"That… that was my intent," Kahlan quivered, feeling herself approaching the threshold. Richard's hands gripped her as she still herself, using her legs to keep her prone, allowing him to buck his hips up into her at a far quicker pace than she was capable of to draw him in on her own.

Her body relaxed and her shoulder slumped and she allowed him to take over. On hand dug into his chest, keeping herself steady, while the other arm was wrapped around her swollen belly, protecting it as they made love. She wished they could do more, but she would be satisfied with what she could get until their daughter was born. Just the fact that Richard wanted it too—and wanted her just as much as she wanted him—was amazing within itself.

Whimpering softly, and gasping in heaving panting breaths, Kahlan felt herself come undone as she fell over the edge. She felt Richard's fingers squeeze into the flesh of her hips and she heard him grunt and groan in response to the contraction of her inner muscles around him. The world melted away as they both reached mutual gratification.

When she came down, Richard caught her and eased her off him. She let out a groan at feeling him slip out of her, wanting him to remain. But he had things to do, things that required the Lord Rahl's attention. She… she was just distracting him. Resting her head against the pillow as he laid her down, Kahlan glanced up at him and watched as he eased off the bed and hiked up his trousers. Turning onto her side, she reached for his arm, turning him around.

"Was… was I pleasing to you?" she desperately wanted to know if she had fulfilled her husband's needs and that he would not require a more slender and lithe body to match his in the dance of love.

Richard smiled warmly and leaned over, cupping her face in his palm. "You'll always be pleasing to me, Kahlan," he said, and then kissed her slow and tenderly, showing the true depth of his feelings in a way that worlds could not express.

Sighing as he pulled back, he worked the buckle of his belt, re-attaching the Sword of Truth. Kahlan frowned, wondering when he had taken it off, because she could not remember when, but at some point, he had obviously removed it from his person.

"Now get some rest, okay?" he instructed her, running along her chest as he refastened the strings that held her blouse together.

"Yes, _Lord Rahl_ ," she teased, feigning a pout as he finished and removed his hands from her chest.

He shook his head, and leaned down to kiss her again before standing up off the bed. "Do you want me to have some food brought to you?" he asked.

Kahlan shook her head. "I was only a little hungry before, but I think I've been sated," she smiled at him, letting him know what sort of hunger she had had previously. "Besides, we're having a big banquet tonight, right?"

Richard chuckled and nodded. "Yes, we are. Nathan told me it was the head steward's idea. Apparently he wants to make a good impression on the Lord and Lady Rahl."

"Well, I'll be sure to be starving for the feast, then," Kahlan grinned. "This little one certainly will be hungry." She rubbed her hand over her belly, silently thanking her child for not interrupting the intimate moment that Kahlan had wanted with Richard.

"I still think you should eat something," he asserted, looking concerned. "I'll have Rikka bring you something for lunch. The banquet is in mid-afternoon, and you haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"Alright," Kahlan inclined her head, giving in.

"Good," Richard grinned and ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to smooth it out and make himself look presentable.

"Sorry," she grinned, watching him.

"Nothing to be sorry about," Richard asserted, narrowing his eyes at her. "Especially when I was the one who instigated the whole thing."

"Oh… just wait until this little one is out of me and I've recovered," Kahlan teased him back as he grinned down at her, "then there will be nothing stopping me from ravishing and having my way with my husband!"

Richard laughed lightly and eased over the mattress to sweep her up into another kiss, his fingers tangling into her long hair. "Now," he breathed out softly. "Rest up, because I plan on a repeat performance later tonight."

"Is that a promise,  _Lord Rahl_?" she batted her eyelashes as he straightened his tunic.

His eyes sparkled as they greedily roamed her body. "Oh, most definitely, yes," Richard nodded. "Once we're done with the banquet and all that silly pomp, we're coming back here and having a long,  _long_  discussion on why you deserve everything I give to you."

Kahlan's cheeks redden with anticipation. "I'll look forward to it, very much," she replied, lying back down on the mattress. "I shall endeavor to rest until then, so I can be up to the challenge of  _arguing_  the point that you deserve more than I."

Shaking his head, Richard bent back over for one final kiss, before murmuring his love and leaving her to rest. Kahlan ran her lower lip under her teeth, her heart swelling with a happy feeling that she had not felt since the day Richard had become her husband. A pang of shame touched her momentarily as she remembered what was going on far outside these walls, guilt over not being able to assist those fighting that harrowing battle going on right now. She sighed wistfully as she turned onto her side and thought of her beautiful city in flames, wanting to do more than just lay here, but grudgingly accepting she had an obligation and duty to stay alive for the little one inside her.

"Your father and I shall keep you safe, Daphne," Kahlan murmured, looking down at her belly as she ran her hand over it as if she was caressing her child. "Nothing will ever harm you as long as we stand united against the darkness."


	43. The Fall

The rain drenched everything and made her dress stick to her body, clinging in all the right places that made men go wild with lust. But that was not why she wore it. She wore it because it was her; it was who she was. She had been a seductress, and part of her still believed that was what she was. And despite everything that had happened, there was still a small part of her that hoped beyond hope that one day she would have the man she wanted, no matter how ridiculous such a thought was.

That was why Nicci was here, now… defending a lost city that was doomed to fall. She did it all for Richard. He was the only man she had loved, saved for her father. Her father, who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for her, yet she had never repaid that love, believing the twisting ramblings of her mother and her group of perverse followers, who all praised and adored the messianic preaching of Brother Narev.

Before she had left the Old World for good, Nicci had visited the ruins of her childhood home. It had been burned down long ago, her father and mother long dead… for centuries, which had passed with almost no feeling for her parents. Having been gifted, Nicci had gone off to the Palace of the Prophets and had been inducted into the Sisters of the Light at a young age. She had never seen them again when Sister Roslyn came to take her.

Nicci had expected her father to fight back, to make some sort of protest, when they took his little girl away, but he did not. He merely closed his eyes and turned his back, all the while her mother smiled smugly, like a triumphant victor in a duel. It was not until she had returned to her home, nearly 800 years after the fact, that she realized the game that had been played, a game that her mother had easily won.

Mother had been a dictator, or sorts, and had beaten father down into submission. Not physically, but mentally, with words instead of blows. Nicci had admonished herself when the realization struck. Out of her two parents, her father had been the only one who had truly loved her for who she was, not what she could be mold into.

Her mother and Brother Narev had plans for her, plans she had not known until she had reached maturity, and she had been raped by that man in the prison. The Prelate had not helped; only Brother Narev had helped, guiding her towards a path that had eventually led her to the Keeper.

His plans for her had been unknown and vague, but as she stood in the ruins of her home, having just shrugged off the Keeper's yoke, and regained control of her own destiny, she finally realized how much of her life had been determined by others. Narev had wanted her to serve the Keeper, knowing that in doing so she would gain the powers of subtractive magic. She already possessed one of the strongest Hans amongst all the Sisters of the Light when she was nothing but a novice. And she learned quickly and easily. Nicci was to be the boon to which Brother Narev's plans would be made fruitful.

Yet, even the intricate and detailed plans of Brother Narev had not counted on the random factor in the equation that was the  _Fuer Grissa Ost Drauka_ —the Bringer of Death, the Seeker… Richard Rahl… the pebble in the pond. With just one ripple in the still water, Richard could change everything. And he had. He had changed her, breaking her of the strings that had pulled her along and manipulated her life. Nicci was now free of those bonds, and she did as she wanted, as she needed.

Even if she could not have Richard, she would gladly die for him… and for Kahlan, for that matter. The two were inseparable. They were one and the same. To know Richard was to know Kahlan. And Nicci's life had been forever changed by those two.

Together Richard and Kahlan were a force that no one could stand against.

Not Darken Rahl, not the Keeper, not her, and certainly not Brother Narev and his puppet Emperor.

And Nicci… well, to Narev and his Emperor, she had become the weapon of their own demise. The instrument they had forged to use in creating a super being born of dream walker and magical blood was never going to be. The things she had learned were no longer for their use, but for hers. And she freely gave that knowledge to the Seeker and Mother Confessor, and their way… their path.

The dust cleared and the shouts of the men called her thoughts away from her sad past. Scowling, she sent another bolt of deadly subtractive magic out at the oncoming horde.

XXX

Kevan encouraged his donkey up the small hill to the crest. Brother Cadelf was already there, sitting on top his shaggy garron. The late afternoon air was chilly, and the older brother had pulled his cowl up over his head to shield his pale cheeks from the wind. Kevan let out a breath, and watched it fog before his eyes. He shivered and tugged his long cloak tighter around his trembling frame. His donkey let out a loud bray of gratitude when he reined her in for a stop.

"Shall we make camp, Brother Cadelf?" he asked, glancing over at his superior.

Cadelf looked over at him with his ice blue eyes. "No, not yet, young Kevan," he said. "We still have several hours of light we should make use of. We need to reach the slopes of the mountains and cross into D'Hara before too long. From the rumors I heard back in Forks, I suspect the Order is sacking Aydindril as we speak."

Kevan let out a horrified gasp. He had known that such a thing could happen, but it was still too ghastly a thought to think of. He had always wished to one day visit Aydindril and truly explore its wonders, but now he was coming to terms with the knowledge that such a thing was never really going to happen. He had seen what the Order did to towns and villages they conquered. They were practically destroyed, wiped out, obliterated.

"Come, let us not dally too long enjoying the view," Brother Cadelf called out as he snapped the reins, his garron snorted and took off in a slow trot.

He quickly did the same, much to the displeasure of his donkey. Patting her neck, Kevan tried to sooth her. "Don't worry girl, I'll find you some apples when we set up camp."

They rode in companionable silence for a while, simply listening to the chirping of birds, the hooting of owls, and the occasional screech of a hawk. The trees clustered close together and it was hard to keep track of the trail, but Brother Cadelf seemed in his element. Kevan began to wonder when the elder monk had joined the Order of Ulrich. He was tempted to inquire upon this mysterious past that was clearly evident, but he kept his mouth shut.

Following the bend in the path, they went down a hill and came to a small creek. The two mounts made braying noises, and Brother Cadelf reluctantly declared they would stop for a break.

Dismounting, Kevan rubbed his sore backside. They'd been riding for days, and he ached all over. He stretched and walked around the small clearing in the trees, working on the stiffness in his legs. As Brother Cadelf stooped down to refill their waterskins in the creek, Kevan trudged off into the woods, searching for an apple tree. After all, he had promised his donkey an apple.

The leaves crunched underfoot as he meandered through the cluster of deciduous trees. Spotting the red fruit, Kevan hurriedly removed half a dozen and made his way back to the creek. When he got back, he let out a startled yelp and dropped all the apples.

"Easy there, Kevan," Cadelf's voice was calm and steady, despite the threat of the dagger to his throat.

Kevan's eyes darted to the wilding clutching the weapon, and was shocked to find that it was a young man about his own age. His eyes were light blue and his hair was a mess of blond curls.

The crazed young man was shaking, like he himself was startled by his own actions. His wild eyes darted down to Kevan's feet and the apples.

"Pick them up!" he snapped. "Slowly!"

Trembling with fear for his superior's life, Kevan slowly lowered himself to his knees and gathered up the fallen apples. Glancing up, he could see that the man was terrified. But what puzzled Kevan was how Brother Cadelf could remain so calm and collected. His expression betrayed no fear.

Having collected all the apples, Kevan worked his way to his feet. "Please… we mean no harm," he pleaded, looking earnestly into the young man's eyes, only to be met with fear and distrust.

"No one is safe these days!" the young man snapped back. "We are all hunted! Prey!"

"Please," Kevan picked up his plea. "We are merely monks, brothers of the Order of Ulrich… we are but peaceful travelers."

"Kevan," shushed Cadelf. "You are not helping. Just give the boy what he wants."

"But…?"

"No buts, just do as I instruct,  _Brother Kevan_ ," Cadelf stressed his words, making himself very clear.

Kevan nodded. He did not fully understand how Cadelf could remain so calm with a blade at his throat, but the senior monk was a pillar of reason, so he trusted him.

"Put the apples in the saddle bag," the young man jerked his head towards Cadelf's shaggy garron.

With slow movements, so he would not excite the already feverish young man, Kevan stepped over to the garron and lifted the flap on the saddlebag. As he placed the apples into the bag, he was surprised when Cadelf began to speak.

"We can help you, young man," the older man said. "Like us all, we run from the Imperial Order. We are heading for the People's Palace… why don't you come with us? Together we shall be safer than apart."

The young man wavered for a moment, his eyes darting around. "To the People's Palace, you say?" he questioned. "To… to the Lord Rahl?"

"Yes," Cadelf gave a slight nod of his head despite the blade threatening to cut open his throat. "We have urgent business with the Lord Rahl and his wife."

"The Mother Confessor! ?"

Kevan could not tell whether or not the boy spat the title of the beloved ruler of the Midlands with vile contempt or fearful reverence.

"They are together, yes," Cadelf continued. "We have heard word that they have fled Aydindril and are now most likely in residence at the People's Palace."

The young man let out a breath and lowered the blade, allowing it to drop to the ground. Cadelf immediately spun around and plucked up the dagger, stuffing it inside his robes. He put his hands on the boy's arms.

"Who are you, my son?" he questioned. "And why are you so afraid?"

Kevan watched at the young man shook and sniffled, tears rolling down his dirty cheeks. "Merrin… my name's Merrin," he let out in a sob, his entire body rocking with the weight on his shoulders. "My… my parents have been killed… killed by magic. And the only one who can help is the Lord Rahl. He… he is the magic against magic."

XXX

Cara jumped right and rammed the pommel of her short sword into the snarling face of one of her attackers. The man cursed, falling back with a broken nose. The hit had been hard, and heaving the blow caused her to stagger back a bit. Thankfully Benjamin was close, and his hand found her back and steadied her. She smiled. His presence was much more comforting in the heat of battle than she would have thought. The rain was falling hard and kept them clean of all the blood and gore that was spraying up as they hacked off limbs and dispatched their enemies.

Once the wall had been breach, Nicci had been able to hold the horde back for longer than Cara had expected, but by late afternoon, the front line had to fall back, and soon the fight had spread to the labyrinth of streets and alleys within the city of Aydindril. The Order did not stop to burn or topple buildings, like Cara had expected. They kept driving, pushing them further and further back.

General Sheldon had led a detachment of soldiers to help Nicci and General Reibisch fall back, leaving Cara and Benjamin to deal with the invaders rushing them in the square before the Confessor's Palace. Benjamin barked out orders to the men, and they jumped to obey without question. Cara's red leather pulled a lot of attention away from the D'Harans, and the brutes of the Order tried to take her down, but she was too effective with the short sword.

And whenever she was in any sort of distress, which was rare, Benjamin would always step in with his broadsword and hack the attacker down. It was taking her some time, but Cara was finally getting used to letting her guard down around him, and allowing him to help. Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd were the only other ones she had allowed to do this, and the meaning of this was not lost on Benjamin.

"Right flank!" she heard him shout, taking her away from her thoughts.

Spinning in the rain, her long blonde braid whipping around her, Cara watched as a stream of fresh troops came pouring through the right alley. Benjamin rushed there with a column of men and began barking out orders, having them form into a tight line to hold off the advance. Cara followed, keeping close to her lover. She looked over her shoulder and saw the left flank begin to give way.

"Ben… the left flank!" she yelled over the din of battle.

He heaved his sword up and slammed the blade down on the head of a man who had made it through the line, shattering the attackers skull, sending brain matter flying out around as he removed the blade, before he turned to face her. "We can't hold!"

"Stay here, I'll deal with it," she called back, already turning.

"No, Cara… wait!" he called after her, but she was already sprinting away, clutching her short sword in the ready.

As she darted across the square, large glowing spheres of flame continued to sail above them. The artillery attacks had never ceased, and Cara kept her eyes ahead, focused on battle. She knew the Confessor's Palace had been struck several times, and she loathed to look upon it. The palace held so many happy memories for her that she did not want to mare them by seeing what had become of the place those memories had been created. Despite her brutal training and her difficult road back to her humanity, Cara was still a Mord'Sith, and Mord'Sith did not give in to fear or feelings.

Just as she was reaching the line of men, reading to take command, a burst of light exploded around them. Cara held up her arm to shield her eyes, and let out a huff as she looked back up and saw only dust and smoke settling around where the rush of enemy had been.

Out through the smoke, several figures emerged, one was clearly the sorceress Nicci—she was hard not to miss with her slender frame that was only accentuated by the form-fitting black dress she wore and her long rain soaked blonde hair swaying behind her. General Sheldon, his sage green cape fluttering behind him, was right beside her, and they had a phalanx of men surrounding them.

Cara nearly sneered with displeasure. The sorceress had taken out the advancing enemy with a single bolt of her black lightning, leaving none left for Cara to send to the Keeper. She grudgingly stifled her animosity and reminded herself that they were on the same side.

"Where's General Reibisch?" Cara asked after the others had safely retreated behind their lines.

"He fell," was all Nicci said, as General Sheldon turned and began ordering men about.

They pushed a cart, upturned it and used it to form the beginnings of a barricade. When they were finished creating a barricade, Nicci then cast some of her subtractive magic on it, helping to reinforce it. Cara left them to it and darted back across the square to rejoin Benjamin. Captain Meiffert gave a soft grin upon her return and together they took down as many of the Order as they could.

Cara relished the feeling of fighting alongside the man she loved, and she wondered if this was what Kahlan felt when she and Richard had done battle against first D'Harans and then banelings. For Cara, the fact that Benjamin was in as much danger as she was, only seemed to intensify her desire to win, to beat out her opponents. She took each attacker down with a brutal efficiency that came from her years of training and her own righteous need to protect the man she loved from harm. When she glanced briefly into Benjamin's eyes, she saw the same fire reflected right back at her.

Giving a soft smile, she winked at him, and turned to face the next invader. Raising her short sword, she cut short his blow and swung her clenched fist into his side, hitting a pressure point near his kidney. She might not have use of her agiels, but Cara still knew where best to strike. She took some pleasure in the man's groan of pain, before she quickly sliced at his throat, sending him sputtering to the ground.

Soon Nicci and some of the other D'Harans joined in on the fight and they quickly pushed back the advance. General Sheldon ordered a barricade set up, and the men quickly went about the task. Nicci spelled some more subtractive magic on it, and then turned around, breathing heavily.

Cara's chest was heaving with all the exertion and it seemed almost surreal to have a few moments of respite after what had been hours of intense fighting. Benjamin stood next to her, his head held back as he allowed the rain to wash away the blood and gore that had splattered on his face during the battle. Cara found it oddly arousing, watching the blood dilute in the water and stream down his face and the glimmering breastplate he wore on his chest.

Unlike the ground advance, the artillery assault, however, did not stop. The burning projectiles continued to roar above them, and Cara grimaced as she heard them collide with building behind them. She could hear the yawning and crackling of the brick giving way and structures crumbling down into ruin.

As the men busied themselves with preparing for the next assault, Cara and Benjamin followed Nicci and General Sheldon to the center of the square. The General had dark circles around his eyes and looked exhausted. There was also a hollow look in his eyes, like he had resigned himself to a fate that Cara wanted to deny. She knew that Sheldon and Reibisch had become close friends since the union between the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor had united the Midlands and D'Hara. And it was clear that Sheldon was taking Reibisch death hard.

Sheldon growled and flipped the table with the map on it over. It crashed before them, yet no one jumped or was startled. They were all frustrated and high-strung. Though Sheldon seemed more angered at the loss of Reibisch than anything else.

"He was a good man," Nicci spoke up, trying to calm the angry general. "His sacrifice will be remembered."

"I pray that all of our sacrifices will be remembered, Nicci," Sheldon replied, looking up and running his hand over his slick black hair.

Nicci gave a single nod, and turned her gaze to Cara. "It is time, Cara," she spoke simply, her voice calm and relaxed.

"What?" Cara snapped back, narrowing her eyes.

"It is time for you and Captain Meiffert to go," Nicci said with a calmness that only made Cara angrier.

"We are not leaving you all here to die!" she roared back.

Benjamin gripped her arm to soothe her, but she yanked herself free and advanced on the sorceress. Nicci held firm and did not show the slightest display of fear. Her eyebrows stayed flat and she merely stared back at Cara.

"You must go, Cara," Nicci spoke again. "You must go and protect the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor. Nothing more can be done here. Aydindril is lost. It was lost the moment the Order set up camp in the fields below."

Cara stopped mid-stride and looked at Nicci, assessing the sorceress. "But…?"

"No," Nicci shook her head, her eyes looking almost sad, as if she too, like General Sheldon, had resigned herself to a fate which there was no return from. "This is not your place, Cara… your place is by Richard's side. You are his Mord'Sith." She paused and averted her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath. "And his friend. He will needed you for what is to come."

Cara stood stark still, unsure how to respond. She felt Benjamin come up behind her, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. His presence and touch gave her strength. She swallowed hard against the sickening taste of guilt she was feeling at having to leave her fellow D'Harans to the massacre that was to come.

"What is to come?" she asked, gazing at the former Sister of the Dark for answers.

Nicci shifted, almost uncomfortably, as she gazed up into the deluge of rain, her eyes closing. "A reckoning," she almost whispered. "Light and darkness shall meet and it will be Richard… the  _Fuer Grissa Ost Drauka_ , who shall decide the fate of many."

"The Bringer of Death," Cara muttered, looking away, and lowering her head towards the ground. "That is what that means,  _right_?"

"Correct," Nicci confirmed. "But it means much more than the physical death." Cara tilted her head back up and locked eyes with the sorceress as she continued. "It almost means the end of what we know, a rebirth, a new way of thinking and of living. It is so much more than what the words translate from the ancient High D'Haran and into the common tongue."

Cara nodded. "He—Richard—is a rare and special person."

"Yes, he is," Nicci agreed. "And so is Kahlan. Together… together they can do great things, things that no one else can even conceive of."

"Like uniting D'Hara and the Midlands," Sheldon spoke up, having been silent for most of the conversation.

"Exactly," Nicci said with an incline of her head. "Just like that. No one would have predicted such a thing. But now, here we are, a united D'Hara and Midlands standing together as one, combating an evil force bent on the destruction of all which we hold dear." Nicci paused, taking a deep breath. She returned her attention to Cara. "Richard and Kahlan must be protected at all costs, Cara. And I know no one better suited for that charge than you."

Cara stood stiffly, taking all that was said in and mulling it over. A lot of it was simply too complex for her to understand, but she had to agree that Richard and Kahlan were something never before seen. Together, they were irrepressible.

"Fine," she bit out, relenting. "We will go."

Benjamin let out a sigh behind her. Cara knitted her eyebrows together and turned back to Nicci. "But Nicci, don't simply go and throw your life away," she asserted, surprising herself with her words. "I may not always like you, but Richard… no, we need you, as well."

Nicci seemed stunned. Her mouth dropped and she was unable to form words. Cara was equally amazed at her own words. She had never told someone that before. She frowned. It appeared that Richard and Kahlan's influence, yet again, was turning her into a big softy. Sighing, Cara shook her head, turning her back on the sorceress and looking up at Benjamin.

"Come on, let's get out of here before I change my mind," she grumbled.

"Cara," Nicci voice stopped them.

The Mord'Sith stiffened and arched her neck to look over her shoulder. The sorceress gave her a soft smile and inclined her head.

"Thank you," Nicci said, her eyes watery with unshed tears.

"Um… think nothing of it," Cara replied, trying to regain control of herself, of how she was used to being. "Just… just make sure you don't get yourself killed doing something stupid."

Nicci laughed lightly and gave a nod.

"You two should go now," Sheldon said, stepping forward and signaling two men over. "Go through the back gate and head north before turning east to D'Hara. Keep lower, keep safe."

"We will, sir," Benjamin said, then straightened his back and saluted General Sheldon.

For a moment, Cara was left speechless. A D'Haran captain saluting a Midlander general as an equal and trusted ally was something unheard of. Never in her life would Cara have dreamt she would have seen such a sight. Richard and Kahlan were indeed very rare and special people to have created something as unique and wondrous as this. Cara could only hope that it was not fated for failure.


	44. Brief Respite

While listening to the musicians playing flutes and a lyre, Kahlan absently nibbled on her food as Richard spoke with Zedd. The banquet hall she had walked through earlier was filled with dignitaries and officials from throughout D'Hara, everyone eager and excited about welcoming the Lord Rahl and his Lady Rahl, the Mother Confessor. The courtiers were all kind and respectful, and many of the ladies wanted to chat about her pregnancy. Though every time they came over to speak with her, Kahlan would notice how they would all stare at Cynthia for a moment before returning their gaze to her.

"How are you doing, Kahlan?" her sister asked, leaning over from the seat next to her.

Kahlan smiled softly, turning to face her sister. "Much better," she asserted. "I was worried my stomach would get upset with the food, but I'm actually doing quite well."

"It's all so delicious…  _and plentiful_ ," Cynthia nodded, her voice filled with awe and amazement. "I've never seen so much food before."

"Yes, I know," Kahlan inclined her head. She  _had_  seen this much food before, but not in exactly the same manner she was tonight. This banquet was huge, and even though she was sitting at the head table with Richard, Kahlan could still clearly see all the crowded tables in the vast banquet hall. She had seen larger banquet halls, to be sure, but nothing as extravagant or expansive of this one.

Turning back to Cynthia, she gave her sister a soft smile and a squeeze of her hand before returning to her meal. The flutes and lyre faded as the musicians took a break and Kahlan narrowed her eyes, hearing the last of Richard's sentence.

"…that this library is a private one for the Lord Rahl?" he was asking.

Kahlan tilted her head to glaned sideways and listened in on the conversation. Alright, eavesdrop was more like it, but she wanted to be kept informed on matters, even if her enlarged belly prevented her from doing any hard labor or fighting. Nathan was currently leaning out over the table, looking past Zedd, so that he may speak with Richard. The prophet's azure eyes were bright and alight with excitement.

"Nyda and some of the other Mord'Sith remember Darken Rahl opening up the wall and going inside," Nathan answered Richard. "There is clearly something behind that wall."

"Yes, but what makes you think it is a private library?" Richard inquired, basically almost repeating his question.

"Well, besides it's location," Nathan replied, "I've asked Berdine about it, since the Mord'Sith I've spoken to say that she was one of the few still alive who accompanied the previous Lord Rahl into that room."

Richard gave a nod. "Berdine's word is trustworthy, yes."

"Yes," Zedd echoed with a nod, then grabbed a large slice of cheese off his plate and began munching on it. When he next spoke, it was with a mouthful of cheese. "According to her, that library contains books deemed too important for just anyone. They are for the eyes of the Lord Rahl only."

Nathan bobbed his head, and raised a goblet of wine to take a sip before adding, "And their might be some information in their about the Chimes of Death and how to deal with them."

Kahlan perked up upon hearing that. She turned more fully and engaged in the conversation. "You must go to this library, then, Richard," she asserted, almost a little too vehemently. "I know we have the Order to worry about now, but when they are gone, there will still be the Chimes to deal with. Magic is important in the world, and without it, there could be a chain reaction that results in the destruction of all life."

Richard chuckled slightly and shook his head. "I think you're being a bit dramatic, Kahlan," he said, patting her hand. "I lived in Westland for most of my life without magic, and everything was fine."

"I'm sorry, my boy, but Kahlan is correct," Zedd pronounced, giving Richard a quick look that said the Seeker should know better, but then his eyes softened, remembering his grandson's lack of memories. "Magic is much more prevalent in the world than you may think, and without it things can turn serious very fast."

"How so?"

"Well," Zedd took a deep breath before continuing; his brow narrowing as he thought up his explanation, "for example, there is a plan up in the mountains that grows in the currents of the waters of a stream that eventually becomes a tributary of the Drun River.

"The pollen of these flowers mixes in with the water and counteracts another excretion from the poisonous flowers that exist further up into the mountains. What many do not know is that these flowers that counteract the poison, rendering the waters safe to drink, are magical in nature. With magic falling, those flowers won't be able to counteract the poison, making the waters of the Drun extremely dangerous for consumption."

"And that's not taking into account the other living beings that rely on magic for their mere existence," Kahlan added, thinking of the night wisps.

"Creatures with magic?" Richard asked, sounding puzzled.

Kahlan knitted her eyebrows together for a moment, before then raising them in understanding. Some of his memories had been restored, yes, but only things about her and his relationship with the Mord'Sith. Richard still did not remember that Zedd was his grandfather. He knew it, because Kahlan and the others had told him, and he trusted Kahlan; that was the only thing he seemed to know for sure, that he could trust Kahlan with his life. Though she knew it was a struggle for him, and that he was frustrated about not remembering things.

Reaching under the table, she placed a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze to reassure him. He placed his hand over hers and interlaced their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze in return.

Leaning over, she lowered her voice and whispered an answer to his question about magical creatures. The others remained silent, Zedd resuming eating his dinner while adding more food to his plate. Richard let out a soft sigh and squeezed her hand when she finished her explanation.

Turning, Richard looked down the table of Nathan. "The sliph, have you heard of it?"

"Oh yes," Nathan nodded. "The sliph has been around a long time. She was here before I was born. Created during the Great War three thousand years ago." He paused and frowned. "Why do you ask?"

Richard narrowed his eyes and exchanged a look with Kahlan. She gave a nod of her head, encouraging and informing him that it was okay to tell the others about this small part of their life together that had remained their little secret.

"I've—we've—" he gestured to Kahlan with a nod of his head, "have traveled with the sliph. It was the sliph that took us to where we spent our wedding night."

"I was wondering how you two escaped from the Confessor's Palace," Zedd interjected.

"Well, from what Kahlan told me, this place that the sliph took us," Richard continued, ignoring Zedd's interruption, "was a place that Alric Rahl created specifically for me."

"For you?" Nathan knitted his eyebrows together.

"Yes, for Richard," Kahlan spoke up, holding Richard's hand more firmly as she spoke, reassuring him with her touch. She could tell that he was nervous and frustrated over his lack of memories about such things. "Before Richard's memories were taken, he told me that Alric Rahl had created that place for his one true heir, and the sliph informed Richard that he was that one true heir, because, Richard is the first in the line of Rahls since Alric Rahl to possess both additive and subtractive magic."

"You mean the fact that he's a War Wizard," Nathan said with a bob of his head, completely understanding.

"Yes, just like Alric Rahl," Kahlan affirmed. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "This place that Alric created for his one true heir… it has no other way to get there other than the sliph. And it has books, a plethora of them, all for Richard."

"Obviously this place must be important," Nathan asserted. "A pity we cannot use the sliph to gain access to this place then. I am sure that some of these books, if not all, would be very helpful right now."

Richard nodded. "I just wished there was more we could do other than reading books," he groaned. "I'm so tired of reading… I… I want to do something."

Kahlan squeezed his hand gently under the table and he turned his gaze to her. Zedd stopped eating for a moment and placed a weathered hand on Richard's shoulder, giving him the comfort of a grandfather.

"There will be time for action, my boy," he assured him. "Just not now. We must first understand things before we jump headlong into them."

Richard sighed. "I know. It's just frustrating at times."

"I understand," Zedd nodded. "But knowledge is the key to understanding, and with understanding we are stronger and wiser."

There was a lull in the conversation and the musicians picked up where they had left off and the soft sounds of the flutes and lyre filled the room. Richard sighed and his shoulders slumped. He looked exhausted and Kahlan hoped that this banquet would not take much longer so she could get her husband back up to their bedroom and help relieve him of the stress he held.

XXX

Chaos reigned all around her; Debris fell from the sky, shards of glass and wood rained down, smoke and fire filled the air. Gritting her teeth, the sorceress focused all her energy on calling forth enough strength to cast out more black lightning. The hard rain had stopped two hours ago, yet the air was still damp and heavy, mixed with the awful stench of death and battle. The sound of metal against metal combined with the cacophony of cries of agony and pain as the men fought.

"Nicci!" it was General Sheldon calling her name.

Casting her eyes to the right, she saw the black haired Kelton general shoving his way through a crowd of soldiers engaged in hand to hand combat. He used a mace to crush the skull of an advancing soldier, before kicking the dead man to the ground. His steel sword was smeared with blood, and his sage green cape looked more crimson than green now. Nicci figured she must look similar, having been forced to utilize one of the daggers that had been given to her by the D'Haran soldiers assigned to protect her.

"General?" Nicci inquired as the man got closer.

"The Order is not stopping to destroy the buildings," he informed her in a hurried breath. "They are harrying our outer perimeter and pushing forward."

Nicci groaned inwardly, picturing what was happening. The Order was changing tactics, concentrating more on advancing than on destruction. It was not something she had expected from them, and she now felt like she had let everyone down by not thinking of all the possible ways that the attack would occur.

Sending out a bolt of lightning at a brutish man bursting through the column of men, sending him falling backward and igniting in flames, Nicci shifted off the platform, an archer quickly taking her place. She made her way over to the general, who was panting by now from the exertion of pushing his way through the crush to reach her.

He placed an arm around her waist, and pulled her along with him as they fought their way through the wave of advancing soldiers, making a path back through the streets of Aydindril and towards the square before the Confessor's Palace. When he had first put his arm around her waist, Nicci had been startled. No man had done such a thing in a long while, and though Sheldon had not done it in a possessive or romantic way—more in the manner of helping him to keep her close as they both struggled to fight their way through the battle—the sorceress still felt the pull of it.

Try as she might, Nicci could not hide the smile that worked its way onto her lips at feeling a man's arm draped around her waist, no matter the circumstances or reasons behind it. She missed the physical contact of another, especially when it was done in the fashion the General Sheldon was doing it in.

Most of the times she had been touched by men during her long lifetime it had been done in a brutal and possessive manner, such as the way Darken Rahl had touched her when she had been his prisoner, or when that man had raped her so long ago when she was nothing but a young novice, taking away her innocence and naiveté of how the world truly was, which had led her on the path towards the Sisters of the Dark and the Keeper of the Underworld.

The only other man to touch her in a fashion that had nothing to do with using her for his own purposes—besides her father, long ago—was Richard. And it was that, along with a whole hosts of reasons, why she loved him, was  _in_  love with him. But he was taken. His heart belonged to Kahlan, just as the Mother Confessor's heart belonged to the Seeker. Despite the hurt it caused in her chest, Nicci was happy for them… for both of them. They were perfect for each other, and nothing seemed capable of standing in the way of their love. A love that almost seemed destined.

Having her thoughts elsewhere, Nicci did not realize that they were approaching the makeshift barricade of upturned carts that led into the large square before the steps of the Confessor's Palace. General Sheldon was holding her tight to him, using his broadsword to block a strike by an enemy soldier. Nicci snapped back to reality and quickly summoned up some black lightning to vanquish their attacker. The man's strength weakened and Sheldon's blade skidded along the steel of the other man's sword, eventually embedding in the joint between the man's neck and shoulder.

Sheldon hissed as blood squirted out. He drew his broadsword back, and the sharp edge cut into the man's neck, effectively severing his head. Nicci was numb to how gruesome the whole ordeal was, having seen— _and done_ —much worse as a Sister of the Dark. Sidestepping over the headless corpse, they approached the barricade. The general loosened his grip around her waist, and Nicci shimmied up over the barricade with his help, his hands on her hips as he boosted her up.

He clambered over after her and let out a long breath as a soldier rushed over with a canteen of water. He took a deep draft of the cool liquid and then offered it to her. Nicci smiled and accepted it with a grateful nod, firstly taking a delicate sip before gulping down a larger swallow. Handing the canteen back to the soldier, Nicci let out a sigh of relief at the replenishing effects of the cool water. As the soldier rushed back to his station, she followed Sheldon over to the small table that held the map of the city on it.

It was dusk, and night was falling quickly. They both concurred that the city would most likely fall soon, despite their earlier successful efforts at pushing back the Order and holding them around the meat venders' marketplace. It would only be a matter of an hour or two until those defenses broke down and the horde that was the army of the Imperial Order would swarm towards them like a sudden crash of water rushing down river when the dam upstream had burst.

Nicci glanced up at the general and studied him, seeing his brow crease as he thought. He was much younger than she had originally thought. When she had first met him, Nicci had assumed him to be around the same age as the now deceased General Reibisch, but in reality he was in his late thirties, where the former had been in his early fifties.

She guessed it was the peppery grey that sprinkled the side of his jet-black mane that had made her misjudge his age. The stress of years of bloody and unending war had probably also taken a toll on him, no doubt assisting in him going grey early, which was quite understandable, considering everything that had happened in the last two years.

It amazed Nicci how the same events seemed to have had little effect on Richard and his physical appearance. Granted, he looked a lot more mature than when she had first seen him, but he still somehow held that youthful energetic spark despite all he had been through. With everything that had happened to him, Richard should look much older, but he did not. It made her wonder how the ageing spell had affected him when he had spent his short time in the Palace of the Prophets.

"Nicci, I think we should select the location to make our stand," Sheldon was saying, calling her out of her thoughts and back to the present.

She blinked and looked up into his green eyes, for a moment catching him staring at her in a way that appeared to make him embarrassed. The second her eyes had locked with his, he had averted his gaze back down to the map. Nicci smiled softly, feeling a slight flutter in her chest from having a man look at her like that. It was not a lecherous leer or a lustful stare, but the look of a man who held genuine feelings, something she was not used to receiving from any man—anyone, to be precise—besides Richard.

Nicci did not know what sort of feelings the general held, but it was almost painfully obvious to her that his gaze had nothing to do with her physical beauty. It might not necessarily entirely be the look she yearned to receive from a man, but it was a start. Both Kahlan and Cara had earned that look from the men they loved, and Nicci had started to question if she would ever have such a thing… if she were even deserving of it. But now, with how Sheldon had looked at her, even if it was just the platonic kind of caring, it made her begin to ponder the possibilities.

It was hard to tell, really, since she had fallen so hard for Richard. No man could be Richard, yet Nicci had seen Cara fall in love with a man that was not the Seeker. The Mord'Sith's love for the D'Haran captain may not be the same as her love for the Seeker—her Lord Rahl—but it was obviously real and genuine, and was a true kind of love. Cara was not settling for Benjamin Meiffert, she had honestly chosen him over Richard.

And having witnessed that devotion and love assert itself when the Mord'Sith had decided to stay with the captain, instead of accompanying the Seeker and Mother Confessor back to the People's Palace in D'Hara, made Nicci wonder if her love for Richard was really that true, since she had done some terrible things in the name of that love. Yet, at the same time, she had done some good things, as well, and was willing to watch him be with Kahlan, even when she could have taken advantage of his memory loss, but had not.

Nicci looked at General Sheldon again, and thought. They had worked closely for the past six months, ever since she had returned with Kahlan, after finding the Mother Confessor in the clutches of Sister Bree. And since then, Sheldon had always been of great help in assisting her when asked. Now, with the quick glance she had caught and the look in his eyes, Nicci was beginning to wonder if all the time spent close to her had manifested some feelings in the man's heart—feelings that she knew she would never get from Richard, who, even devoid of the vast majority of his memories, was still hopelessly in love and devoted to the Mother Confessor.

"Our last stand should be at the Wizard's Keep," she said, shaking her head and returning to the present, though when she gazed up to look upon the general, Nicci could not help but look at him in an entirely different light than she had mere minutes prior. "In fact, we should probably head up there right now, so that I can apply some subtractive spells to it… strong ones that will be more difficult to break than those I had cast on the city's walls."

"They have a sorceress with them, don't they?" Sheldon asked, his eyes glancing up at her quickly. "One like you… with subtractive magic."

"Yes," Nicci confirmed. "Bree… she was one of the Sisters of the Dark, as well. However, her powers were never as strong as mine. Speaking of which, I should probably hold back on using my powers until we reach the Keep. I'm going to need all my strength to conjure spells that cannot be broken."

Sheldon gave a nod. "I'll come with you," he said. "It is dangerous, and I do not like the idea of you being alone up there."

"I will not be alone," Nicci objected. "I shall have the soldiers the Lord Rahl assigned to protect me. Not to mention the fact that I am quite capable of defending myself."

"I know," Sheldon sighed, relenting with a nod. "However, we need you to be kept safe, Nicci. I am not just saying this as a general who values your skills—as tremendous and useful as they are—but as a friend." He paused and let his words sink in.

Nicci took a deep breath and looked at him, prepared to make another protest, but he shook his head and touched her lightly on the shoulder. And just as before, when he had wrapped his arm around her waist during the battle, Nicci felt a strange feeling. Yet now, unlike before, she was able to place it. She was feeling acceptance and genuine caring for another. She was overwhelmed with how such a simple touch could convey so much, despite how brief or transient.

"Thank you, General Sheldon," she replied, touched by his concern for her. She was not used to people caring so much about her.

Sheldon smiled back and gave a nod, removing his hand. He stiffened, and there was an awkward moment between them. She could tell that there was much more below the surface than what he was saying, but she let it slide, knowing that now was not the time or place. And besides, his feelings might simply be platonic. But now knowing that there was the possibility of a man seeing past the book cover and into the pages, and still care about her, made Nicci's heart swell with hope. General Sheldon probably had no idea what he had just done for her, no matter what his feelings truly were, but she would forever be grateful to him for it.

Running a hand through his black mane, Sheldon broke the silence. "The city is all but lost… we lost it long ago," he asserted as she met his eyes. "What we need to do now is ensure we keep the world safe from the likes of the Order getting  _their_  hands on the weapons that can be found in the Wizard's Keep."

Nicci inclined her head in agreement. "I concur."

"Then we make our stand there," Sheldon spoke, his voice having a touch of finality to it.

"Yes," Nicci nodded gravely, contemplating it all. "We shall at that."


	45. Coda to the Fall

Kahlan let out a hot breath and shivered in the sudden chilly breeze coming through the window. Her body was moist and wet, covered in the glistening dew of post-coital delight. Richard had kept his word, and more, sending her to heights of rapture she had not expected she would experience in her present condition. It would always amaze her how voracious his appetite for her was, even when she was large and heavy with child. Nothing seemed to stop him for wanting her, from needing to feel and touch her. And she delighted in it all.

She turned to her side slowly, cradling her belly in her arms as she made soft cooing noises, imagining the day when she would finally hold her child in her arms. What would she look like? Would she have Richard's eyes, and her nose? Whose chin would she have? Would she have her mother's hair or her father's? Oh, how Kahlan wanted her daughter to look like Richard. She had been granted the rare gift that hardly any confessor, saved for the first, ever had—to marry the man she loved and have his child.

Smiling softly, Kahlan continued to rub circles over her stretched skin. She was worried about the stretch marks that were developing, concerned it would make her less attractive to Richard, but he assured her that he would always love her. And he had taken up the habit of applying some salve to her skin that he said would help keep her skin unmarred.

Blinking, she looked over at his side of the bed, finding it empty and cold. Kahlan furrowed her brow, puzzled as to when he had left the bed. That's when she felt the chilly breeze again, making her shiver and causing gooseflesh to manifest on her arms and legs. Shifting to her back, Kahlan arched her neck right, as that was the direction the breeze had come from.

The crimson curtains blocking the sliding doors to the balcony were fluttering, informing her that the doors were open, allowing in the cool night air. Taking a deep breath, Kahlan heaved herself up to a sitting position and reached over for her silk robe, pulling it over her shoulders as she sat on the edge of the bed, still shivering from the cool breeze.

She sat there, perched on the edge of the mattress for a while, trying to call up the strength and energy to stand. Richard's lovemaking after the banquet had been fervent and very satisfying, leaving her with a blissful ache between her legs. He was always attentive to her needs and wants, always seeking to give her pleasure before himself. It amazed her he was even able to find the positions he had with her large belly in the way.

Kahlan eased up off the bed, grimacing slightly at the soreness in her legs. She stiffly walked a few steps before regaining some semblance of comfort, though her legs still ache with the wonderful soreness she would never get tired of. Waddling oddly across the floor, clad in only her robe, which she hadn't even bothered to close. The light fabric covered her breasts, yet there was still plenty of skin visible. In the past, it would have bothered her, but not now. She was alone with her husband, and she had already bared herself to him completely... multiple times. There was no need to hide or cover up from him.

As she parted the curtains and stepped out onto the balcony, she smiled softly, seeing him leaning against the stone railing, his unruly hair blowing in the soft breeze. From her vantage point, she had a good look at his profile. He wore his sleeping shorts and nothing else. And just like her, his skin was still moist and glistening with the aftereffects of their passionate lovemaking.

She just stood there for a moment, cradling her swollen belly in her arms as she watched him, his brow creasing and his eyebrows knitting together as he thought. Kahlan waited a minute or two, not wanting to disturb his thoughts, before padding softly across the stone floor to stand besides him, bracing herself against the stone railing with one hand, and remaining silent so he could continue his ruminations.

He had sensed her presence, that much was obvious, judging by the way he shifted slightly. He moved one of his hands from its place on the railing, and rested it on top of hers. His fingers ensnared her smaller hand and he squeezed it, telling her with just a touch that he welcomed her presence besides him out here on the balcony.

Kahlan let out a soft sigh, content to simply be by his side, as she cast her gaze out at the sleeping city below them. The view was breathtaking, to say the least. Tall spires and fluttering flags and banners stood aloft, and the white marble of the massive obelisk that stood in the central square before the entrance to the throne room and greeting halls seemed to glow in the moonlight.

"There are so many of them," Richard spoke suddenly, his voice unsure and in awe.

Kahlan turned her gaze to follow his, seeing the vast camp of refuges outside the palace walls, scattering before the gates in the barren plains below. Their tiny campfires sparkled like the stars above. She shifted her hands and interlaced their fingers, giving him a soft squeeze of reassurance.

"I don't know if I can save them all," he reluctantly admitted, his voice growing thick with doubt and uncertainty.

"Don't doubt yourself, please, Richard," she softly admonished. "You save everyone before, from both the tyranny of Darken Rahl and from the grasp of the Keeper. You can save them again."

"But this is so much different than before," he objected, finally turning to look at her, his eyes on the verge of frustration. "I know nothing, saved for my love for you and the work I've done with giving the Mord'Sith back their humanity—watching them change from harden inhuman servants of their lord and master, into the living breathing women they are today."

"See…," she encouraged, moving closer to rest her side against his. "You saved them. You brought them out of the despair of nothingness and into the light of day. You made them whole again." She took his hand and fiddled with his fingers before spreading it out over the bare flesh of her swollen belly. "And you've loved a confessor and survived… no simple mere man can claim that feat, Richard."

He turned more fully to her, cupping her swollen belly in his large hands, caressing the skin with his thumbs. "I wish I could fully remember the night we created her."

Kahlan smiled warmly as he looked up at her. "It was magical," she said. "You loved me completely and exposed your soul to me, unafraid of my powers. And I opened myself to you, like I have never done before. And in that moment of bliss and happiness… and love… we created her." She ran her hands over his and they simply stayed that way for a while, each looking down at her middle in awe of the life growing inside her.

"I love you, so much," he murmured softly, resting his forehead against hers.

Her smile widened and her heart thumped, like it always did when he told her that. "Do you truly realize how amazing that is, Richard?" she asked.

"That I can love you?"

"Yes?"

"I'm amazed by it everyday," he said. "More so that you love me."

Kahlan smirked, and moved her hands up to rest on his chest, searching for the beating of his heart. "You gave me the gift of love, Richard," she told him. "A confessor's life is one of solitude… a loveless life. Before I met you, I never thought that one day I would be carrying the child of the man I love, that instead I would be carrying the child of a man I had to confess, a man who I did not love, and was merely using for procreation. You honestly do not know what it means to me to be able to love the father of my child, and that his love for me is not a blind devoted obsession that comes from the magic of confession."

Richard moved his head and his eyes locked with hers. One hand shifted and glided up to hold her cheek in his palm. She closed her eyes and eased into his touch. "You are my world, Kahlan," he said in a quiet trembling voice, almost as if he was afraid that should his words be spoken aloud they would turn into falsehoods. "And even, if someday, all my memories are returned, I have no doubt that that statement would still be true."

She smiled and nodded as a tear of happiness escaped her eye and trickled down her cheek. He tenderly wiped it away and leaned down to kiss her lovingly. It was light and brief, but so full of emotion, and it made her breathless.

As she filled her lungs with the cool night air, Richard ran his fingertips down her neck and across her collarbone, pausing at the exposed flesh above her bosom, noticing the gooseflesh that trailed after his touch. His eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"You must be freezing," he said, his hand moving to pull the folds of the robe more fully over her.

Kahlan stopped him with a delicate touch of her hand. "Come back inside then, and make me warm," she purred out in a seductive voice, running her hand down his chest.

Richard released a soft groan of want, and gave a nod, taking her hand and leading her back inside.

XXX

As the stars took hold up above in the dark sky, Nicci let out a soft curse, her energy was waning. It would not be too long until she could no longer cast out the black lightning at the waves upon waves of enemy soldiers.

Their retreat to the Wizard's Keep had been far from desired. They had been harried along by the advancing horde, given no pause or respite. Many D'Haran soldiers sacrificed their lives, giving Nicci and General Sheldon the time they needed to reached the stone bridge, and for the sorceress to then cast upon it strong spells based in the dark and powerful subtractive magic she was gifted with. Not even Sister Bree could tear down the spells she had conjured up and added to the ones that already adorned the cold hard walls of the Wizard's Keep.

"How goes it, Nicci?" Sheldon asked, wiping his brow as he took a moment to catch his breath. Thankfully there was a brief lull in the fighting, but Nicci knew that it was only because the Order was regrouping for a final assault.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at the towering Keep before them. "It should hold," she said quietly, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.

Sheldon nodded. "We've done our best, that's all we could hope for."

Nicci sighed, and looked over at him, feeling the gaze of his eyes as he looked over her, as if he was trying to remember everything he was seeing so that he could take it with him when he died. On a whim, Nicci stepped forward and grabbed his face in her hands. She took a quick breath, before closing the distance and kissing him soundly. She heard him grown into her mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the small of her back.

Pulling away for air, Nicci was surprised at the flutter in her chest as she allowed her eyes to lock with Sheldon's green eyes. "For good luck, General," she said, then quickly retreated, smiling to herself at the look on his face. She still could affect men, couldn't she? But something about Sheldon, about how it seemed he cared more about her than just her physical beauty, made that kiss more special to her, making it for more than just luck. But for something more.

She smiled more, and placed a hand on her lips. If that was going to be the last time she kissed someone by her own free will... she was glad it was General Sheldon.

XXX

Cara hooked her leg over the side of the horse and grumbled under her breath. She did not like having to leave a battle, even if it was a lost cause.

It was dark now, and she knew that somewhere behind them the others were no doubt making their last stand. When dusk had settled, Benjamin had made her stop, so that they could rest the horses and eat a little. She had sulked around the small fire they had constructed, ignoring his attempts to reassure her. Cara never expected to feel such guilt about leaving others behind. Especially Sister Nicci.

The woman had been a thorn in the side, yet over time Cara had realized that she had truly reformed and sought only to do what was good for not just her, but for everyone else. She could have fled with Cara and Benjamin, but instead the sorceress decided to remain behind with General Sheldon and the other soldiers of the combined Midlands-D'Haran army—the army of the D'Haran Empire, an empire forged by the Seeker and the Mother Confessor.

Shaking her head, she widened her eyes, keeping a look out for any potential dangers that might pop up. They were being safe, taking the lesser-traveled routes, but one could never be too cautious with the Imperial Order about. Only the Creator knew what sort of deviousness they were plotting!

Benjamin rode along side her at a steady pace, keeping close, but staying far enough to give her space. Cara felt bad about giving off that vibe. She truly did love and care for him and knew that all he wanted to do was comfort and reassure her, yet at the moment she did not want those things. She would much prefer being in the heat of battle instead of feeling the cool winds against her face as they rode away from the battle raging behind them.

Cara's mind wandered and she thought of her friends awaiting her at the People's Palace. There would be Richard and Kahlan, the confessor's twin, Zedd—the crafty old wizard, Verna and Warren, and not to mention all her Sisters of the Agiel. As she thought about all of them, she was stunned to find that all she really wanted to do once they reached the safety of the People's Palace was hide away in some room and curl up with the D'Haran captain riding along side her.

She glanced at Captain Meiffert from the corner of her eyes and felt her chest constrict with feeling. Spirits, she had it bad. Did her reclaimed humanity have to be so damned strong? She almost missed the good old days when everything was black and white, and there was no grey area. No. Take that back! She didn't miss those days one bit. Those days were nothing compared with the present. Sure, the situation might be grim with the Order's continued advances, but she wouldn't trade any second of this new Cara.

Glancing up, Cara spotted the mountain range looming in the distance, dark and foreboding in the night, only the stars illuminating the ragged outline.

"We should make the slopes by midnight," Benjamin's voice called out as he rode alongside her, his tone professional.

Cara gave a nod. "We should see if we can find a wayward pine and camp for the night," she suggested, then cast a glance over at him, a curl forming on her lips. "Then we can warm each other up."

Benjamin looked back and grinned. "Sound's like a plan, Mistress Cara."

XXX

"NO!" Nicci cried out watching in horror as General Sheldon was tackled by a giant of a man, taking him down to the ground, out of her view. She pushed past the soldiers lunging at her, striking them down with quick burst of subtractive magic.

"Grab her! Now!" roared a voice, booming and commanding. It was a terrifying voice, one that Nicci had hoped she would never hear again.

Throwing her fist into a man's face, she quickly snatched the dirk from his belt and began jabbing it wildly around, sinking the sharp point into any flesh she could find. She was literally surrounded by the enemy. The last of the defenses had broken, and the Order was flooding towards the bridge. There was only one thing left to do. She had to prevent the Wizard's Keep from falling into the hands of the Emperor.

Nicci swung the dirk hard, and it got stuck in a man's eye socket. The man was screaming horrifically as Nicci gritted her teeth and yanked the dirk back out, complete with the man's eyeball. She grimaced. It was a gruesome sight, to be sure, but nothing compared with some of the things she herself had done while in service to the Keeper of the Underworld.

Calling forth a more powerful bolt of dark lightning, the sorceress paved a way to charge through the battle. Men of the D'Haran legion helped, widening the path, knowing what she was going to do. As she approached the edge of the battle, nearing her target, she heard a roar, and spun around, seeing the man-giant that had tackled Sheldon being jumped upon by Sheldon's men. For a moment, a brief moment, Nicci thoughts were of the general, and she found she was praying for him to be all right. It was a foolish thought, considering they were all going to die in this final stand.

She turned back around and focused her attention on the task at hand. The bridge was before her and she could see the dark lines of strings fanning out towards the hidden mines. All that was required for her to ignite them. She rushed forward, heading towards the closest string when suddenly a heavy weight landed on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs and pinning her to the hard ground.

Hot breath touched her neck and she could hear the man's growl. Without turning her head to look, she knew it was the man-giant. She cursed, but then heard something she had never heard before. Arching her neck left, she saw a sight that shocked her. Sheldon, covered in blood, she was not sure whose, was charging towards them. The look of rage in his eyes was similar to that which Nicci had seen in the Seeker whenever Kahlan was threatened.

Too much was going on for her to devote any thought to the meaning behind such a look. So, at the moment, she was simply grateful that the general was there to help her. Sheldon picked up speed and rammed against the man-giant holding her down. The two of them went sprawling to the side, the heavy weight lifting off her back.

"Do it!" she heard Sheldon yell.

Without waiting, Nicci pushed herself to her feet and raised a hand, aiming for the nearest string and released a quick burst of black lightning. There was a hiss and soon the string was ignited, and a trail of small white smoke followed the glowing spark along the fuse.

"Damn it all! Grab her!" the voice was horrifically recognizable and made Nicci shudder. She spun around to spell a coming attacker, but her strength had waned and she was exhausted. She had just had enough left to ignite the fuse. At least she had that. Within moments the Dragon's Breath would ignite and the bridge would be no more.

"You have failed, Sister Nicci!" the beast of a man, towering above them all, snarled as his large hand grabbed a hold of her neck, pulling her close. "Just as Aydindril, the Wizard's Keep is mine!"

She gave him a dark smirk. "No… it is not," she wheezed out as he tightened his grip around her neck.

Chaos reigned around her as the Dragon's Breath, placed along the underbelly of the bridge, went off. The Emperor roared in anger as he watched the bridge collapse, debris falling all around them. The last men of the D'Haran legion were being crushed, and to Nicci's horror, the man-giant reappeared, pulling a limp Sheldon behind him.

"Is he dead?" the Emperor asked, turning to Sister Bree, who had materialized besides him.

Nicci watched as her former Sister padded across to the General and bent down, placing a hand on his neck. She looked back up, her eyes staring at Nicci before moving to the Emperor.

"No, he is alive."

The Emperor paused for a moment and examined Nicci and the vast gap separating him from his prize. He let out a low growl of frustration and tossed Nicci to the ground before him. Soon she felt a Rada'Han being snapped around her neck as Sister Bree locked it into place, a wicked grin on her face.

"How the tables have turned, Sister," Bree spat out and spit in her face.

"Bree!" the Emperor reprimanded.

"She is a traitorous bitch, my lord," Bree shouted, her chest heaving with rage, as she defended herself. "I know Narev had plans for her, but—"

" _Brother_  Narev's plans are to be followed," the Emperor said, taking a deep breath and turning to a man dressed in leather and fur armor, standing beside him. "General Vicck, see to this prisoner here," he pointed at Sheldon. "He bares the markings of a commander office. Since he did not die along with his men, we might be able to extract some information out of him."

"By your command, your Excellency," Vicck said, pounding his fist to his chest. He went over to the giant of a soldier, who still held the unconscious general, and gave orders for the man to follow.

Nicci watched as they took Sheldon away. Her chest clenched as she thought about the terrible things they were going to do to him. She closed her eyes, cursing her heart for manifesting these kind of feelings at a time such as now. Bree was watching her, and when Nicci opened her eyes and looked up, her former Sister was smiling triumphantly.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you,  _Sister_  Nicci… so much," Bree crooned with a sick look in her eye.

"With no way across to the Wizard's Keep, we're done here," the Emperor announced, coming up to stand behind Bree. He placed a large hand on her shoulder. "Have her packed away in a cart, and then meet me back in my tent, darlin. After we…  _rest_ , we shall break camp and follow the cowards to D'Hara."

Bree's eyes flinched and Nicci smiled. Nicci knew that the Emperor had no intention of "resting" as he put it. And from the look on Bree's face, Nicci knew she was right. Not what the wicked Sister had been expecting. The Emperor turned and departed the scene, followed by a squad of his elite guards. She followed him with her eyes before looking back at Bree.

"You'll never be free from him, Bree. You know that, don't you?"

"Shut up!" Bree slapped her across the face, scowling. The sorceress looked up at the men holding Nicci down. "Bring her."


	46. Devotion

Richard was startled awake by the feelings of a very attentive and insistent mouth traveling down his chest. Blinking, he arched his neck and looked down, smiling at seeing his wife. Kahlan's breath was warm and moist against his skin. She was slowly making her way down his flat stomach to is already growing arousal.

"Ah… you're awake!" she enthused, glancing up with a sly grin when she noticed his rapidly growing arousal.

"Yes," he let out a hot breath, already filling with desire. "You… you woke me up… not that I'm complaining."

Kahlan bit her lower lip and smiled back at him, moving down and resting her hands on his thighs, very close to his groin. "Well, I know that you are going to be busy today, so I thought I should take advantage of the short time I have with you," she winked and then began rubbing her soft hands up and down his skin, her fingers ghosting ever so close to his hardening desire.

Closing his eyes, he pushed his head back into the pillow and let out a low groan of want, his need flaming to a boil as she continued to entice him below the waist. Spirits, it was so easy for her to do this to him!

He could remember falling in love with her, and why he loved her, but most of the smaller details were lost on him. How he wished he could remember the first time they had connected and made love! He just knew that it must have been like she said last night… magical. Even heavy with child, Kahlan was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and making love to her was always a dream come true.

"Oh my!" he moaned loudly as with a suddenness that surprised him, Kahlan had taken him into her mouth. His hands grabbed at the bedding as she worked him, her hands and fingers continuing to tantalize his inner thighs.

It was so warm and wet in her mouth, and Richard felt for sure that he was going to burst. Kahlan seemed to sense this and she went slow, taking her time on him, making him yearn for more and more of her. She ran her tongue along him, from base to tip, making him shudder and involuntarily thrust his hips up.

Kahlan let out a soft giggle and backed away slightly, her silken hair tickling his skin. She brought her hands up and ran her delicate fingers up and down his length, making him squirm with even more want to be buried deep inside her. Richard arched his neck, breathing in panting breaths of hot air as Kahlan stroked him, making him even firmer in her hand, before she pulled back her hair and took him back into her mouth.

"Oh, Kahlan…," he whimpered under her ministrations.

Slowly, he brought his hands up and rested them on the top of her head. He didn't grab her, or push her down, he just laid them there, his fingers fiddling with her hair as she continued to take him in and out of her mouth, licking him with her tongue in between breaths. She alternated between stroking him with her fingers and wrapping her lips around him as she sought to bring him to release.

"Spirits," Richard hissed out through clenched teeth, feeling his muscles begin to tighten. He knew what was coming. "Kahlan… oh Spirits… Kahlan… I… I'm going to—"

He couldn't finish his sentence as he involuntarily gripped her head tighter in his hands and thrust up into her open mouth. She let out a startled gasp, but managed breathed through her nose, stopping her gag reflex. Richard's eyes flirted down, watching as she brought him all the way into her mouth as he went soaring over the edge, moaning her name loudly as he released hard.

Kahlan sealed her lips around his base and he could feel her taking several hard swallows. None of his seed escaped her mouth as she pulled back, licking him clean with the tip of her tongue. He shivered, almost feeling like he would erupt again as a result of her touch. He pulled back her hair to look at her face, watching as she tilted her head up to look at him with those brilliant blue eyes. She gave him a sly smile, and then averted her eyes coyly, before slowly climbing up him until they were face to face.

Richard brought his hand up along her shoulder to her neck, running it past her jaw, grasping at her lush hair as he pulled her down for a passionate kiss. She moaned as she opened her mouth for him, and he shivered, tasting remnants of himself in her mouth. Bringing his other hand up, he brushed her hair back from her beautiful face and stared up into her eyes.

"Kahlan… you… you didn't have to do that," he mumbled in-between pants for air.

"I know, but I wanted too, for you," she replied, her voice soft and sensual to his ears.

"I do not deserve you," he said, his lips quirking up in a smirk.

"Please, Richard… don't start that again, I thought we've—" But before she could finish her sentence, Richard was twirling her around—being mindful of her bump, not wanting to damage or hurt their little growing child—and placing her gently onto her back.

Kahlan let out a light giggle as he caressed her face, bending down over her to kiss her sweetly. He traced his fingertips along her jaw and down her neck, loving how she moaned and quivered under his touch. Her skin was so silk smooth and creamy white, he just wanted to taste it and inhale her flavor.

He dipped his hands below her shoulders and palmed her breasts in his hands, teasing her nipples. Kahlan made a sharp high-pitched noise and squirmed, gooseflesh materializing on her arms.

"Ooh, your hands… they're cold," she gasped.

"Sorry," he shifted back up and gave her a quick kiss, while he removed his hands and rubbed them together, warming them. He placed them back on her, gently caressing her flesh. "Better?"

Kahlan nodded and parted her lips, beckoning him with her eyes. He kissed her again, pushing his tongue past her parted lips as he kissed her deeply. They moaned into each other's mouths, as Kahlan looped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, making the kiss even deeper than it was before.

Richard continued to move his hands along her breasts, cupping them and judging the growing weight of them as they began to grow heavy with milk for the child growing inside. She was so beautiful, and it would always make him confused when she questioned her beauty. Leaning forward, he softly planted a kiss along the sensual curve of her neck, delighting in the soft whimper that escaped from her throat as he began to suck on her pulse point.

As he gave Kahlan's slender neck the reverence it deserved, he moved his hands further south, rubbing her swollen belly with a tenderness he knew would speak volumes about how much he loved the fact she was carrying his child. Kahlan let out a sigh as he kissed back up her cheek to capture her lips in a soft kiss.

"You're going to make an amazing father, my Richard," she said. "You far outshine the qualifications for fathering confessors, and besides that, I love you… and that means more to me than anything else."

Richard hovered over her, using his elbows to keep him from crushing her. "I love you, too, Kahlan," he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers as she ran her fingers up and down his face and into his hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. "I meant what I said, last night. You are my world."

He moved, taking her lips in his and kissing her slowly, simply taking her in. As he backed out of the kiss, he beamed, watching as a warm smile grew on her face. Then, he started kissing his way down her body, worshiping everything about her, not just her physical beauty, but also the beauty within, the beauty he saw reflected in her brilliant blue eyes… the beauty that was the soul of Kahlan Amnell.

Starting with her neck, he again worked her into a breathy moan by giving her pulse point some attention, before kissing down her shoulder and between the valley of her breasts. He paid each soft mound of flesh equal devotion, before planting soft kisses along the swell of her belly. Kahlan let out a contented sigh and her warm smile was all he needed to live on.

"Richard, what are you doing?" she asked, clearly puzzled when he began to move down the bed.

He hooked his head up and glanced at her, giving her a playful wink and grinning mischievously. "You deserve everything that you have given to me, Kahlan," Richard declared, making sure to use a tone of voice that left no room for any protests. After a moments pause, Kahlan nodded, allowing him to continue to slip off the bed without protest as he pulled her along, directing her legs apart as he knelt down between them.

There he was, kneeling on the cool stone floor, her heat radiating out before him, and she was simply glorious. He could smell her in the air, and he just had to taste her. Without warning or preamble, Richard simply dove in, capturing her in his mouth and sucking on her special place. Kahlan arched her neck back and let out a scream of unadulterated pleasure, completely caught off guard for his sudden pleasant assault on her.

Richard moved his hand up and down the smooth legs surrounding him, reveling in the soft moans and whimpers that tumbled from her lips as a result of his attention. He licked her, drinking in her moist wetness, basking in the euphoria of her flavor. Flicking his tongue out, he ran it down her folds before slowly pushing it past. He brought on hand up and rubbed her special place, stimulating it as he drank from her core.

Kahlan trembled beneath him, her hips bucking on their own according, pushing into his mouth as he opened it wide to suck on her. He ran his fingers over her femininity, paying homage and touching her with deliberate movements, wanting to extract every groan, moan, and cry of ecstasy from her throat. He opened her up with his hand, and with his other, inserted one finger at a time until he was filling her with three of his digits.

"Oh… Richard… the… the things you can do to me," Kahlan spoke through gasps, panting with great heaving breaths.

As his fingers explored her depths, his tongue continued to work her special place, making her convulse and writhe beneath his mouth. Soon, her inner muscles were squeezing at his fingers, and Richard could hear her soft whimpering pleas to feel him inside her. But he ignored her pleas, not ceasing in the rhythmic thrusts of his fingers and the flicking of his tongue.

"RICHARD!" she screamed his name, her head thrown back against the pillow as her legs clenched tightly around his head, holding him firm between her inner thighs. She came hard, gushing out with an intensity he was unsure he had ever brought her too. He lapped it all up, drinking as much as he could of her essence.

As he languidly ran his tongue along the edge of her folds, heading for her special place and one last tease, Richard could feel her going loose beneath him, completely boneless. She sagged into the bed, her flesh covered in a fine soft dew that made her glow. And just then, as his lips met his target, he felt a startling kick from within her.

He paused and gasped when he felt it again, leaned back and resting his hands on her legs.

"Kahlan… she's kicking," he called out.

"Hmmm?" Kahlan hummed, still half out of it.

Richard slowly stood, resting himself on the edge of the bed, placing one large hand on her belly, just above the location of her womb. He could feel it, the baby moving inside. He could tell that the baby was changing positions. It was an extraordinary sensation, the feel one's child move within her mother.

The realization quickly seeped in. He was going to be father. Richard didn't understand his reaction. He had already known this; it had become a part of who he was. But at this moment, feeling his daughter moving inside the woman he loved, made it all the much more real to him.

"Spirits, this is amazing," he mumbled softly, a sigh escaping his lips as he smiled as he felt her move again.

Kahlan was silent, watching him. Out of the corner of his eye, Richard could see the smile on her face. Slowly, she moved a hand to join his. And they simply stayed that way, both reveling in the feel of their daughter moving, sharing the experience. When the baby stopped moving, finding a comforting position, Richard slowly ran his hand up and over the swell of Kahlan's belly, skimming his fingers up between her breasts until he was palming her cheek in his hand.

"We must have disturbed her with our fun," Richard joked with a cocky grin.

Kahlan laughed, it was such a beautiful laugh. "Maybe, yes."

Richard scooted closer and kissed her slowly, caressing her cheek and burying his fingers into the fringe of her silken dark strands. He sighed as he broke away, turning onto his side and snaking his arms around Kahlan, tugging her against him.

"I don't want to leave this bed," he admitted aloud, whispering into her ear as he nuzzled her hair with his nose. "I wish we could just stay here and forget about the world."

"I know, I know," Kahlan cooed, running her hands up and down his back. "So do I. But we wouldn't be us if we didn't put the needs of others before ourselves."

Richard nodded and sighed. "I shall miss you today."

"As I will miss you," Kahlan replied, the love in her voice as plain as day. She turned her head until they were facing one another, and they rubbed their noses together, until finding each other's lips.

Richard held her tightly as he kissed her with great depth and feeling, pouring all his love for this woman into that kiss. With all that was happening, he found that the only constant in his life was the love he bore for Kahlan, and the love she returned. He wanted it. He needed it. Without her as his guide, he would be lost.

As he laid there, holding her in his arms, words suddenly flooded into his mind, and he could not help but speak them aloud.

"Kahlan guide me. Kahlan teach me. Kahlan protect me. In your light I thrive. In your mercy I am sheltered. In your wisdom I am humbled." He paused to take a breath. His voice was barely above a whisper, but by the way her body had tensed, he knew she had heard him. He continued, "I live only to love you. My life is yours."


	47. Encounter

Cara stretched her back, feeling the tension that had been there the previous night gone. They had found a wayward pine late in the evening and had made camp. And with Benjamin's eager and willing help, Cara had banished all the stress and tension from her body by giving in to the nirvana of becoming one with the man she loved. The memory of the night's frivolity made her body all warm and tingly.

But the reasons for that were different than they had been in the past. Other times that she and Benjamin had been together, it had been as Mord'Sith would when they took a mate, with the Cara on top and in control. But last night, she had been so stressed, worried, concerned, and tired… yet she still wanted him…  _needed_  him. So, almost embarrassed about her want, Cara had asked something of Benjamin… and he surprised her. Which was a rare and special gift. She was rarely surprised.

Benjamin had made love to her… truly made love. For the first time in any sexual relationship, Cara had submitted to another. She had lay beneath him, allowed him complete control… a first for her. And she found that she greatly enjoyed the feelings and pleasure he brought her. Cara felt safe and secure under him, feeling him loving her. She had never done that before… truly made love.

She had had sex for pleasure, but not sex for love. It was a stress reliever, more so than the passionate and heated moments she had shared with Benjamin on previous encounters. Cara had not known until that moment, last night, when Benjamin had eased down between her legs and held her in his arms, that he loved her… truly loved her as Richard loved Kahlan. It made her weep. Yes. She had actually cried at such a thing. Never in her entire life did she believe someone could love her like that. Yet here it was. Benjamin loved her for who she was, not what she was.

It was liberating, such a great feeling. Setting her soul free, possibly for the first time.

Under him like that, Cara had been brought to such heights she had never dreamed of, and she knew it was more than just the change in control or position, but the love she felt in every single one of his movements, the way his lips touched her neck and jaw and mouth. This was love. Pure love. And she was feeling it. She kissed him back, following his movements, and made love back to him. All her stress, all the pain and hurt she felt because of their retreat vanished. She felt whole and complete, reinvigorated for the journey ahead of them.

The wind picked up and blew the loose strands of her blonde hair into her eyes. In addition, it sent a cold chill down her spine, shaking her out of her pleasant reverie of finally having what normal people had. Blinking in the wind, Cara looked across at Benjamin as he rode along side her. They were currently somewhere in the mountains leading into D'Hara. If Cara was right, they were close to the halfway mark and should be able to see the plains of Azrith by nightfall.

The trunks of the tall pines and spruce trees that surrounded them were skirted by white snow, some of which was covering the path they were following. Their breath frosted in the cold air. Another blast of cold wind hit them and Cara shivered, and not for the first time since they had begun their trek up into the mountains, she wished they had brought fur coats. All they had on them was their battle attire—though she did have a brown leather jerkin over her red Mord'Sith outfit, but neither of those were really suited for the harsh cold climate of the tall mountains.

Alongside her, Benjamin kicked his legs, sending his mount at a quicker trot. She watched as he road ahead of her for a bit, scouting the upcoming turn. He disappeared around the bend, and Cara narrowed her eyes, breathing heavily through her nostrils. She pulled on the reins, slowly the pace of her horse as she approached the turn.

Suddenly Benjamin appeared again, riding towards her at a fast gallop. His horse snorted and stomped its hooves when Benjamin tugged on the reins, bringing the horse to a halt.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing his expression.

"Tracks in the snow," Benjamin replied in a panting breath, his face flushed from the cold.

"The Order?" Cara raised her eyebrows, concerned and worried that they were too late to warn the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor about the fall of Aydindril.

"Perhaps," he nodded his head, taking in a deep breath. "It could just be some scouts. There are at least three on foot, with two mounts."

Cara knitted her eyebrows together and flicked her eyes out at the serene mountain serene, perking her ears up to listen. If she strained her hearing just enough, she could make out the sounds of a mule braying and some idle chitchat.

"No, their not the Order," she said. "They are making too much noise."

Benjamin held his breath and narrowed his eyes as he listened for the sounds she heard. His eyes grew wide and he nodded. "Yes, I think you're right." He gripped the reins and maneuvered his horse around.

Together, Cara and Benjamin moved their mounts to a slow trot and went around the bend. Cara looked down at the snow-patched ground and spotted the tracks that the D'Haran captain had seen. The idle chitchatting became more prevalent as they went on, and the Mord'Sith spotted the flutter of brown cloaks through the trees.

"There!" she pointed out the sight.

Benjamin nodded and moved one hand to the hilt of his sword. Cara glanced over at him and nodded, mimicking his action. With their free hands they gripped the reins tightly and guided their horses forward, turning around another bend in the mountain pass.

A flock of birds squawked loudly and fluttered across the path, temporarily blocking their view. Cara glowered, and glared with heated eyes at the offending swallows before they finally flew away. When she finally saw the sight before them, she almost laughed with the ridiculousness of it.

"It's just two monks and a boy," she said, rolling her eyes at their unwarranted worry, adding a smirk to her lips.

Benjamin let out a sigh of relief and pinched the sides of his horse, increasing the beast's pace. Cara snapped her reins to match him, bringing her horse up alongside his.

"Ho there!" he called out to the three travelers, beckoning them to halt.

The travelers stopped with a jerk. Cara noticed the boy flinch and dart behind the donkey. One of the monks gripped the bridle of his sturdy garron and shifted on his feet, turning around to face them as they came trotting up to greet them. He reached his hand up and lowered the cowl of his habit, revealing a kindly old face with ice blue eyes.

"Good morning, fellow travelers," the monk said, his eyes narrowing as he examined them.

"Morning," Benjamin said with a nod, bringing his stallion to a halt and dismounting in a quick motion.

Cara followed suit, making sure to seem as non-threatening as possible. It was hard, however. She was used to being threatening. She grunted a nod, and the boy cowered behind a younger monk.

"You're from the Order of Ulrich," she blurted out, gesturing at the senior monk. She recognized the habits they wore from before, when she had been with Richard, Kahlan, and Zedd searching for the Stone of Tears.

"Yes, we are," the older monk said with a nod, his voice elegant and cultured. "I am Cadelf, Brother Prior of the Cloister at Obentan. My young colleague is Brother Kevan from Tinnar. And the one hiding behind him is Merrin. His parents were killed by some vile creatures of magic."

"Creatures of magic?" Benjamin frowned and exchanged a look with Cara. "Didn't Wizard Zorander say magic no longer works?"

"It does!" chirped up Merrin, the young boy. He jumped back behind Brother Kevan. "I… I saw it. Fire… fire came from nowhere and consumed my home, killing my mother and father."

The boy was shaking and obviously traumatized by what he had seen. Cara adjusted the leather jerkin she was wearing and furrowed her brow. "The Chimes," she said softly, leaning her head towards Benjamin. "When the Lord Rahl was infected with that deadly plague, the Mother Confessor had to release the Chimes to cure him."

"The Chimes, you say?" Cadelf's grey eyebrows rose in alarm.

"Yes," Cara nodded, turning back to look at the monk. "Zedd—the First Wizard—he said that with the Chimes out in the world now, magic would fall… cease to be."

Cadelf gave a nod. "That was there purpose, yes."

"You know of the Chimes?" Cara questioned, stepping forward, almost sounding desperate, even to her own ears.

It startled her how much it affected her. She had been taught to despise magic. Had seen it used to do vile and cruel things under the likes of Darken Rahl. But, from her time with Richard and Kahlan—both of whom could wield magic, though different kinds—she knew how wonderful and good it could be. She knew how important magic, not just for Richard and Kahlan, but also for the world. Zedd had explained things to her, about how magic interacted with the world of the living, and Cara knew just how much the world would suffer without it.

Cadelf inclined his head to her question. "Yes, I do," he said plainly. "The Order of Ulrich knows many things, including the deadly effect that the Chimes of Death can have on our world." He narrowed his eyes, as if making a monumental decision. "You are in service to the Lord Rahl, yes?"

Cara and Benjamin nodded.

"Which Lord Rahl, then?"

"Huh?"

Benjamin looked confused, but Cara understood Cadelf's question. She took a step forward, so that the pride in her eyes could be seen. "We serve Lord Richard Rahl and the Mother Confessor, his wife, Kahlan Amnell."

The old monk let out a sigh of relief. "Then this is good. We are on the same side," he gave an apologetic nod. "In times like this, one must be mindful of those around him."

"I understand," Cara agreed.

"If it is not an imposition, may we travel with you?" Cadelf inquired. "We carry an urgent message for the Mother Confessor… and the Lord Rahl."

"Concerning?" Benjamin asked, coming up to stand beside Cara. A cool breeze picked up around them during the pause it took for Cadelf to answer, and Cara shivered.

Cadelf took a deep breath before responding, "The location where the Lord Rahl can put an end to the Chimes of Death."

XXX

Giggling, the two sisters soared through the chill of the air that their other sister had created. She was waiting for them, and once the three were together again, they danced along above the mountain peaks and trees, gazing down at the snowy paths before them. They had seen three travelers; one a boy from a house they had deliciously burned down, and the others appeared to be of the Creator's cloth. They ignored them as two warriors had approached.

So, they skipped up into the air and flew through the clouds, searching for the one with the gift. They had sensed it when mother had released them into this world, and they had been confused. Mother and father were gifted, but theirs felt different. The auras around them were soft and warm… though at times father's aura could be frightening.

This aura, however, was dark. It held such darkness in it that as children of death, the three sisters were drawn to it. Intrigued, they flew through the sky, hunting it out. They soared over the mountains, heading in the direction of their release into this world… their second birth. The city was in shambles; fires burned and smoke plumed up into the air. The great domed building from whence they had been born from was in ruins. The white marble no longer gleamed in the sunlight, and nothing about the city looked as grand as it once was.

The dark aura had been there. They could feel it. But it had moved. Gone somewhere else. Somewhere away from here. Frustrated with the lack of connection with such a dark entity, something that match their own baser instincts, the three sisters took out their anger on the small band of soldiers standing before a large precipice; a gap separating them from a monstrous tower that was closed to them.

The three sisters burned, drowned, and shoved the soldiers, toying with them, torturing them to their hearts' delight, but nothing could fully fell that emptiness they felt at not having connected with that dark aura. They needed it. They wanted it. And they were going to make it theirs.

XXX

Nicci blinked awake. She was in some place dark, yet she knew it was morning from the light that filtered through the bottom flaps of the tent she was being held. The previous night was a blur after her capture. The soldiers had taken her to a caged carriage, where she was held until late in the evening. During the dead of night, the entire army came awake, and began a hard march towards the East and D'Hara. Sometime during that long march, Nicci had succumbed to her fatigue and passed out.

Now it was obviously morning, and the Order had paused, setting up camp. When she attempted to move, she found that she had been chained to a stake, which had been driven deep into the cold hard ground, making it impossible for her to escape. The cold steel of the Rada'Han was still around her neck, so use of her subtractive magic was a no. Other than the light drifting in from the bottom of the tent flaps, there was no other light source to provide illumination to the space she was being held captive.

She sucked in a breath of cool air, filling her lungs to capacity. Despite her years of experience and knowledge of dealing out death to others, and the horrible things she had seen and done, Nicci found herself to be terrified. Not just for herself, but also for the wellbeing of General Sheldon, who had been captured along with her. It had surprised her that the general had not been killed on sight. The Order seemed to have gained some smarts, but only by a little.

In her opinion, the only reason why the Imperial Order was so successful in their campaign against the Midlands was numbers. They had a seemingly endless supply of troops, thanks in large part to the massive size of the Old World. The New World was like a fly in comparison to the size of the Old World. The Midlands was nothing, really. If the Order won, the Midlands would be nothing but a small backwater province of the vast Imperial Order.

Nicci shifted on the cold ground, casting her eyes about her captivity. It was definitely a tent... that much was clear. Other than that obvious fact, she had no clue where she was. And since she had passed out during the night's journey, Nicci was unable to accurately calculate how far they had traveled. For all she knew, they could be on the boundary of D'Haran territory.

She hoped that Richard and Kahlan were safe, and that Cara and Benjamin would reach them soon to warn them about the coming approach of the Order.

XXX

" _Kahlan_ _guide_ _me._ _Kahlan_ _teach_ _me._ _Kahlan_ _protect_ _me._ _In_ _your_ _light_ _I_ _thrive._ _In_ _your_ _mercy_ _I_ _am_ _sheltered._ _In_ _your_ _wisdom_ _I_ _am_ _humbled._ _I_ _live_ _only_ _to_ _love_ _you._ _My_ _life_ _is_ _yours._ "

His words resonated in her ears, bouncing through her consciousness. She had heard those words before, spoken by him. She searched her mind for when, but was having trouble. So overwhelmed by the fact that Richard even remembered those words, Kahlan found it hard to concentrate. She knew her body had tensed, and knew that he had sensed that, because his hold around her trembling body tightened, his hands affectionately rubbing up and down her bare back.

"Kahlan? What is it?" his voice sounded concerned.

She blinked, placing a hand on his chest and looked up at him.

"Those words… why did you say them?" she asked, staring into his warm brown eyes.

Richard furrowed his brow in confusion and sighed. "I… I don't know. They… they just came to me, and… and it felt like the right thing to say," was his answer.

Kahlan shifted in his hold, moving her hand up his chest to caress the side of his face. "I remember when you first said those words to me," she spoke softly, her voice low, barely above a whisper.

"When?" Richard whispered back, gazing back into her eyes.

"On our wedding night," Kahlan replied with a warm smile, for a moment drifting off into the pleasant memories of that night. "You held me in your arms, making love to me and murmuring those words into my ear as you showed me what pure joy and rapture really was."

She leaned forward and captured his lips in a quick passionate kiss. As she backed away, Kahlan let out a light airy giggle.

"I think you're starting to remember, Richard," she smiled up at him, seeing his own smile at this information.

"Oh spirits, I hope so," he replied, dipping his head down to kiss her back, slow and deep.

Kahlan closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could… as close as her swollen belly would allow her. His hands continued moving up and down her back, one straying up into her lush hair, burying itself in her long tresses. They breathed in each other, tasting one another, and simply relishing the feeling of being close and loved.

Breaking away for much needed air, Kahlan's chest heaved as she refilled her lungs. "Never forget, Richard," she said, stroking her fingers along his face. "Never forget that I love you."

"Never," he assured her, and then swept her back into another soaring kiss.


	48. Understandings

Bree pushed the tent flap open and walked out into the cold breeze. Narrowing her eyes, and clinging to the scant red robe as it flung around her petite frame, the Sister of the Dark looked towards the horizon and the great big mountain peaks in the distance—tall and white, along with a strange mixture of blue hue in the high snowy peaks.

She let out a sigh, and allowed the blustering cold wind to soothe the terrible ache between her legs. The Emperor had not been kind last night. With each passing day, he only became more aggressive, and more violent. Bree closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, bringing as much air as possible into her lungs. She opened her eyes and exhaled slowly.

Glancing around, she watched as the camp came to life. The Emperor was still sleeping. She had noticed that about him. Usually he was an early riser, but as of late, he had begun sleeping in. It wasn't like he was fatigued or anything from bedding her. Though he was brutally violent, he was still always quick. Still, it was always hard to stand, let alone walk after he had taken her in such a fashion. If that whore of a confessor hadn't released the Chimes, Bree would have been able to heal herself, but as it was, she barely even had any control over her subtractive magic anymore. Soon that too would fade, and magic would cease to exist.

Bree grounded her teeth as she glared out at the horizon, silently cursing the Mother Confessor and that fool of a Seeker who followed her. They were all fools, the lot of them. The only true power in this world and the next belonged to the Keeper. Death was the ultimate weapon… the final fate. No one could escape it. Life was transitory, death eternal.

The flaps on the tent across from her fluttered open, and General Vicck emerged into the morning light, scowling. He looked over at her, his hard eyes sizing her up, the disdain for her presence obvious on his countenance. Bree returned the hard look. Neither had any love for the other, and they did not care if the other knew. He gave a slight nod, only acknowledging her because she was the Emperor's Whore, a title she loathed with all her being.

Vicck adjusted his fur cloak around his muscular frame, then walked off, not once giving her a second look. Bree did not mind. The feeling was mutual.

Hooking up the bottom of her red robe, holding it against the strong wind, Bree braved the cold air as she marched across the camp, two guards immediately flanking her as she set off. It was not out of fear that some of the men would try and rape her. In fact, they were all afraid to even look at her. Not just because she was a Sister of the Dark, but also because she was the Emperor's woman…  _his_  property.

As always, the camp of the Imperial Order was as filthy as a pig's sty. The men wallowed in the damp mud, and the place reeked of blood, raw meat, and human waste. Patches of smoke billowed up from large bonfires, where the meat was cooked, but some of the brutes of the Order would just eat it raw.

And then, there were the tents… where the captive women were sent to service the needs of the men. Bree had spent her time in the tents, and survived. Then again, she was stronger than most women. If it had been up to her, the vile bitch Nicci would be sent to the tents. Bree would gladly have watched as the brutish men of the Order violated Nicci over and over again, just so that she could see the moment in which her former Sister of the Dark broke.

Fortunately for Nicci, the Emperor and Brother Narev had other plans for her. Bigger plans.

Bree stomped across the grounds, seeing the devastation that just a temporary battle camp did to the surrounding forests. The Order was going to leave their mark on this world one way or another. She sighed. She couldn't care less what they did to the world of the living. The only true world worth devoting herself to was that of her Eternal Father, the Keeper of the Underworld. Bree was still unsure of His reasons behind supporting the Imperial Order, though she did know that this war was giving the Keeper many more souls.

Finding the tent she was looking for—it was hard to miss, as a circle of Elite Guards surrounded it, dressed in silver armor. The personal guard of the Emperor looked nothing like that ragtag horde that made up the army. These men were trained, skilled, and highly loyal to only the Emperor. They would slit the throat of the Creator Herself if the Emperor told them.

"Mistress Bree," the head guard standing in front of the tent inclined his head.

She gave a nod back, acknowledging him, but nothing more. He knew why she was here and would admit her without question. He turned and hoisted up the fur flap covering the opening into the tent. Bree ducked her head and entered.

The shaft of light coming in from behind her illuminated the sight before her. Still glad in her form fitting black dress, Sister Nicci was the height of physical beauty. Bree scowled even more. How she hated this woman! She was always perfect, always the favorite. And now… now she was going to supplant her as the Emperor's woman. Even though Bree loathed her time in the Emperor's bed, it was preferable to the other things that would be done to her if she were not his.

"Sister Nicci," Bree spoke coldly, gazing down with disdain at the woman chained to the stack.

Nicci shifted, the chain rattled. Her long blonde hair tumbled down around her shoulders as she looked up.

"Bree," Nicci acknowledged with a slight jerk of her chin.

Giving the sorceress a cool smile, Bree fully entered the tent, the guard closing the flap. Alone with Nicci, chained and collared, Bree felt more powerful than she had ever felt. It was an amazing feeling.

"Have you been treated well?" Bree questioned, the sardonic tone in her voice oozing out with venom.

Nicci looked away for a moment, then laughed. Not the reaction Bree had expected. She frowned and stomped closer to her prisoner, cursing the lack of magic. How she wished she could wipe that superior look from Nicci's face. So, she flung her hand out and slapped her instead, hard enough to leave a red mark on the sorceress's cheek.

"If it were up to me, you'd be lying on your back with your legs spread wide as those brutes out there took turns!" Bree snapped, glaring down at Nicci.

"But it is not up to you, is it, Sister Bree?" Nicci retorted, smiling gamely, willing to take on the challenge.

Bree huffed and crossed her arms under her small breasts. "You are lucky Brother Narev values your Han so well," she said, stalking back and forth before the chained prisoner. She scowled and lowered her eyebrows. "Your son shall be the heir to the Order."

"I will not bear the son of Jagang," Nicci boldly declared, her expression one of utter disgust at such a thought.

Bree stopped and spun on her heels, glaring down at Nicci, daring her to speak again. Nicci swallowed and averted her eyes. The first sign of weakness, Bree thought.

"The Emperor will take you, Nicci," she purred out in a wicked manner. "And it will not be pleasant. Your body may be pleasing to men, but the Emperor lusts for more than just you. He wants the Mother Confessor."

"He shall never have her!"

Bree was surprised by Nicci's fierce reply. She cocked her head and looked down at the sorceress. Had something changed with the former Sister of the Dark?

"It matters not what you say," Bree asserted. "The Emperor will have what he wants. He always does. He is a man who is used to such things."

"He has not met a match as powerful as Richard Rahl," Nicci said, her voice too soft and calm for Bree's liking. She would have preferred the sorceress to snap at her instead.

"The Emperor may have forbidden you from being raped, but he said nothing about beatings," she threatened.

"If you wanted to have me tortured, you would have already."

Bree's nostrils flared and she glared down at Nicci. "If you keep up this insolence, I will see to it that the most brutal of the camp 'doctors' pays you a visit!"

"And what would your precious Emperor say about that?" Nicci questioned, tilting her head up and blinking innocently at Bree. A strange sort of understanding past between them.

Bree let out a frustrated growl and spun around, sweeping underneath the closed fur flap and storming back outside. She gritted her teeth, and breathed hard through her nostrils, hearing Nicci laugh as she departed the tent.

The guards stood at attention when she emerged. She knew they were confused as to why she had reemerge after only just going inside. She ignored them, and hugged herself in the cool breeze, staring off into the distance, wishing that the sorceress had been killed during the assault on Aydindril.

XXX

Richard followed behind Berdine as the buxom Mord'Sith led the way through the maze of corridors. He knew he had been here before, Kahlan had told him about his previous visit to the People's Palace, but try as he might, he could not remember. The smile from his night and morning with Kahlan still lingered on his lips, and he was pleased that it seemed some of his memories were returning. At least that is what Kahlan believed. And he could not help but be swept along in her enthusiasm.

After they had made love again, Richard had taken her to a bath, and help wash her for her morning. They shared the bath as well, and could not help but fool around. It was amusing really. He felt like a newlywed. He could not keep his hands off her. She would blush and giggle, always amazed that he found her desirable when she felt so huge with child. Kahlan had glowed in the bathwater… literally glowed. And he had to fight the urge to take her again. He was already running late.

"We're almost there, Lord Rahl," Berdine told him, arching her neck over her shoulder to look at him.

Richard nodded, still lost in his thoughts of being with Kahlan. It was a gift, he believed, to have her in his life. When nothing else made sense, Kahlan was the guiding light. Everything seemed to make sense when she was around. He wished she could be with him now, but she had other things to attend to.

"Lord Rahl," a tall blonde—they all seemed to be blonde—Mord'Sith inclined her head as they past, and soon took up a flanking position behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her. Nyda… that's what he thought her name was. She had been one of the Mord'Sith there to greet him and Kahlan when they arrived at the People's Palace.

They turned a corner, and finally entered the library. It was vast… much larger than any library he had ever seen, even the libraries in the Confessor's Palace in Aydindril. Books were piled all over the place, and not just in the shelves. Berdine weaved a pathway through the stacks of books and scrolls, and Richard followed, his eyes scanning the entire place, amazed at the number of books he was seeing. The wealth of knowledge was staggering.

"Ah, there you are, my boy," Zedd hollered from the distance.

Richard craned his neck and spied the old wizard standing in an arched tunnel connecting the two portions of the library. Nathan was standing there as well, dressed in a fine blue coat and matching trousers, trimmed with gold fringe. Beside him, huddled against the wall was Warren. Richard could not see his face, but he knew it was the young wizard. The curly blond hair was a dead give away, and the violet color of his robes.

Berdine bounced along, seemingly all bubbly and excited about today's little excursion into the library. Richard wondered why, considering her previous ventures into this place had been with his sadistic brother—a thought that still disturbed him. He could not believe that Darken Rahl was his brother. Kahlan had told him that they had known the truth for sometime, since the tear in the veil (another event he could hardly remember), but to him almost everything was brand new information. Again, Kahlan grounded him, keeping him anchored to the world.

"So this is the place?" Richard asked, coming up to the wall in question.

He glared at it but could find nothing to indicate that it was any different than the wall that Warren was leaning against opposite them. Nathan gave a dramatic nod.

"Before my magic fully diminished, I was able to sense the spell shrouding the hidden room's entrance," the prophet declared.

Richard placed his hand along the stones and ran his fingers along the length of the wall. He narrowed his eyes, trying to sense what they were talking about. He felt nothing. Sighing, he turned to Zedd.

"But if magic is failing, and diminishing, as you put it," he said, "then how can you expect me to open the doorway?"

"It is more than just magic," Nathan explained. "It is tuned into your blood… the Rahl blood."

"But aren't you a Rahl as well?" Richard questioned, skeptical about everything they were telling him. "Shouldn't it open for you?"

Nathan took in a deep breath and shook his head. "My blood is Rahl, yes, but I was never the Lord Rahl. You, Richard, are," he said. "And once more, you are Alric Rahl's true heir. Not even Darken Rahl could claim to be that."

Richard gave a nod. "So I've been told."

"It's true, Lord Rahl," Berdine asserted, standing at his side. "You are Alric Rahl's one and true heir. Inside there is a tapestry of him. If you had blond hair, you would be the spitting image of him."

"Really?" Richard raised his eyebrows.

Berdine nodded. "I have seen it many times, I am quite positive."

Richard gave a reluctant nod and turned to Zedd. "How far as magic diminished?"

The old wizard, whom—thanks to Kahlan—Richard knew was his grandfather, gave a shrug. "Impossible to tell," he asserted. "Magic has two sides, Richard. Additive and Subtractive. Additive magic, the magic that I possess, has long since faded. I have no idea how much subtractive magic still resides in the world of the living."

"It had been said that the Chimes would only take away additive magic," Nathan added. "After all, the Chimes themselves are magic, but are subtractive… destructive. They come from the Underworld, and that magic can never be destroyed. Death is eternal, and cannot be defeated."

"So you are saying that this… subtractive magic? That… that it comes from the Underworld?"

"Yes, precisely," Zedd nodded, smiling with what looked like pride. "Yes, you do understand, my boy!"

Richard sighed and shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. "I feel like a fool," he said. "I mean, I should know this stuff, right? I've known it before, yet now… now I have to learn it all over again."

Zedd placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Richard. Do not blame yourself. You can be who you are, nothing more, nothing less."

He gave a grateful nod and turned to Warren. "What have you learned from the rest of the library, Warren?"

"What they've said is basically true, yes," the young wizard nodded, looking up from the old book he had his nose buried in. "Not much is written about the Chimes, except for their origin and that they were created as a weapon during the Great War three thousand years ago. Their purpose was to destroy magic. Which, of course, is what they are doing."

"Is there anyway to stop them?" Richard asked.

"Not from what I have read," Warren sighed. "However, there are older books I've yet to consult… books that both Nathan and Zedd believe are held in the private vault we are trying to enter."

Richard turned back to Zedd. "Couldn't we just… you know, blast a whole in the wall, or something?"

"Oh no," Nathan answered for Zedd, shaking his head vigorously. "The subtractive magic that laces the wall is still prevalent."

"How can you tell?" Richard asked, narrowing his eyes, dubious of their assertions. "After all, you've said so yourself, your magic is fading."

Nathan frowned in thought, attempting to come up with a way to explain it to someone like Richard, who, by nature, questioned things. It was one of the things about being a true Seeker of Truth that Zedd had first noticed in Richard while he was growing up. The prophet exchanged a glanced with Zedd.

"How would you describe it?"

Zedd quirked an eyebrow up. "Richard, here, give me your hand," he offered his.

Richard raised his hand, and Zedd took it in his large wrinkled one, directing it to the wall. He placed Richard's hand on the cold wall, spreading his fingers wide until his palm was flush with the stone. The wizard closed his eyes and took in slow steady breaths. Richard mimicked him without instruction.

"Allow your mind to detach from what you know," Zedd's voice came in a whisper. "See what is, not what is not?"

 _Riddles?_ _Really?_  Richard frowned, but took a deep breath, pushing away his frustrations with riddles and tried to do what Zedd was telling him.

"Allow the rest of the world to float away," Zedd murmured. "It is just you, and the wall. You and the stone."

Richard did so, clearing his mind of nothing else but the feel of the cold stone beneath his palm. He was unaware of when Zedd had released his arm, but it was now just him alone with his hand against the wall. As he focus his mind, giving all his attention to the task at hand. He could feel the wall, the small imperfections in the stone, the cut and cleave of it. He could sense things he had not before. His brow creased.

"Do you feel it?" Zedd asked.

"Yes," Richard gasped, startled by the sudden vibration he felt. "It… it's like a low humming, right?"

"Exactly," Zedd grinned broadly. "Right on the nose. You got it!"

The old wizard chuckled and slapped him on the back. Richard stumbled slightly, caught off guard. He raised his hands up to brace himself against the wall, but instead of meeting solid stone, his hands met air. Richard let out a cry of surprise and slipped through the wall like it was nothing.

He ducked his head and rolled on the ground, softening his landing. Blinking, he glanced around, only seeing darkness. Behind him came the muted muffled cries of the others, desperate to know what was happening. Richard got up to his feet, and spun around, slamming his fist against strong wood. Wood?

Straining in the darkness, Richard felt along the solid wood, feeling the outlines of a door. He smiled.  _It_ _couldn_ _'_ _t_ _be_ _that_ _simple,_ _could_ _it?_  He reached down, instinctively to where one would find a doorknob. His grin widened when he found it. Tightening his fingers around the knob, he turned it, hearing tumblers click and unlock. Pulling hard, he stepped back and heaved the door opened, light filtering in as he opened it to the tunneled corridor and the stunned faces of his companions.

"Bags!" Zedd hooted. "You okay, my boy?"

Richard laughed hard, and his smile grew. He slapped Zedd on the shoulder. "Never better, Zedd. Never better."


	49. Secrets

Nyda brought in two torches from the general library and passed one over to Nathan. The old prophet stepped through the newly discovered doorway and walked around the room, surveying its contents. Nyda then set about to the task of lighting the braziers that hung from the ceiling, providing them with some much-needed illumination.

Richard remained standing near the door with Zedd and Warren. Berdine stayed close to him, as if he might need protection from the spirits that might haunt this secret library. His eyes followed the movements of the Mord'Sith and the old prophet as they walked about the room, with each step making it more visible. Zedd tired of waiting and moved past him to join Nathan. He watched as the two began discussing something with vigor.

Ignoring them, Richard stepped further into the room and sniffing the musky smell of old books. His nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes, looking around at the small cache of treasured books and tomes to be found here.

Berdine walked past him and pointed to the far wall. "Here, Lord Rahl," she called. "This is your ancestor, Alric Rahl."

Richard stepped over and squinted up at the tapestry, examining the image of a fair-haired man. His mouth dropped slightly, yet he did not make a sound. It was amazing how similar they looked. If it were not for the blond hair and blue eyes, they could have been twins.

"See!" Berdine bounced next him, giving him a happy smile. "You are Alric Rahl's one and true heir."

He nodded tentatively, scratching the top of his head as he stared at the tapestry. Glancing sideways, he found Zedd standing beside him. He too was engrossed in the image shown on the fabric hanging from the wall.

"Bags! This is extraordinary!" the old wizard gasped, his bushy grey eyebrows raised up and his brow crinkling as his eyes shot wide in amazement.

"The resemblance is uncanny," Nathan concurred, rubbing his chin as his Rahl-like eyes—eyes that matched those depicted on the tapestry—narrowed in thought. "I had always thought I had seen you before, Richard... I had just never placed it."

"Then you've been here before?" Richard asked, looking away from the image. He found it surreal and slightly unsettling.

"In my youth, yes," Nathan nodded. "And thanks to the Sisters of the Light… that was a long, long time ago."

Richard nodded. "He does look like me," he reluctantly agreed.

"Or more aptly,  _you_  look like him," Zedd pointed out.

Richard nodded. "I guess so." Turning his head over his shoulders, he looked around at the now lit room. There were probably hundreds of old tomes and scrolls here. And there appeared to be nothing to indicate how it was all categorize. "So… what exactly are we looking for in here?"

Nathan turned around from the tapestry of Alric Rahl and gestured out toward the stacks upon stacks of books. "Knowledge of the Chimes of Death must be here. This library is ancient in comparison to anything else in the palace. And the Chimes were created during Alric Rahl's time. Many of these books are rumored to have been once his."

"Really?"

"Well, that's the rumor," Nathan reiterated.

"Darken Rahl thought so," Berdine spoke up. "He often came here, bringing me along, since I could read High D'Haran."

"The ancient tongue," Nathan nodded.

"Many books of prophecy, which were written three thousand years ago, are in High D'Haran," Zedd said. "It stands to reason—if the rumors are true and that these books did, in fact, belong to Alric Rahl—that they would all be written in that old language."

"Here," Berdine maneuvered around the stacks and went straight for a little alcove.

She brushed away some cobwebs and Richard narrowed his eyes, peering inside the niche. There was just one lone book. The red leather binding was dark and appeared to be very old. Berdine picked it up carefully and held it up.

"Out of all the books in here, this was the one that Darken Rahl found most interesting."

"Really?"

"How odd."

Richard looked at Zedd and Nathan, and shook his head. He held out his hand and Berdine handed him the book with a smirk. Zedd and Nathan perked up their eyebrows, watching him intently as he gently opened the book and examined the pages within.

"Is this High D'Haran?" he asked Berdine, turning the book for her to look upon the opened page.

"Yes," she nodded, frowning. "Why? Can you read it?"

Richard held back a grin. "Could I?"

"Before… yes," Berdine said with a nod, blushing slightly at having to tell him that.

Richard spun the book around to take another look. " _Fuer_ _Owbens_ ," he read out loud. He glanced up at the others. "What does that mean?"

Zedd looked baffled. Nathan knitted his eyebrows together, looking lost. Berdine squinted and shook her head. Richard turned away from them and stared across the room at Warren, who was still reading from the book in his hands.

"Warren?"

"Huh? Yes?" he questioned, pulling his nose from the book. The younger wizard crossed the distance between them and raised his eyebrows in anticipation of being asked something.

" _Fuer_ _Owbens_?" Richard repeated. "Do you know what that means?"

"Yes," Warren nodded, giving Nathan a look that Richard interpreted as  _You_ _should_ _know_ _this,_ _Nathan_. "It means  _The_ _Ovens_."

"The Ovens?" echoed Richard, frowning.

"Yes."

"And what—in the name of the Good Spirits—does that mean?" Richard asked, looking around at all the rest.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, and Richard thought he saw the spark of knowledge in there, but the old prophet remained silent. He grounded his teeth, tired of the riddles and games the man played. He closed the book and handed it back to Berdine.

"See if you can make out what this means," he said.

"Yes, Lord Rahl," Berdine took the book over to a reading table and sat down, immediately beginning to study the book as commanded by her Lord Rahl.

Richard stepped over to the niche it had been resting in and looked around. He put his palm on the cold stone and closed his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Zedd inquired.

"Testing a theory," was his response, as he silenced the others from his mind and focused, repeating what he had done when he had examined the wall out in the corridor to gain entrance to this room.

He cleared his mind and focused on the feel of the stone beneath his fingertips. Nothing else mattered, only the stone. A smile cracked his lips as he felt it. The low vibration, just as before, denoted the presence of a magical shield. He leaned forward, his arm disappearing into the wall.

Zedd gasped loudly and Nathan raised his eyebrow, appearing only mildly curious. Berdine looked up from the book, furrowing her brow as she watched. And Warren looked on with interest.

There was a hidden compartment behind the magical shield, and Richard groped blindly around until he felt the stretched and aged leather binding of another book. He grabbed it in his hand and pulled it out to look at it. It was a faded brown in color, and the pages were yellowed and flaking.

"Zedd," Richard called out, stepping over to another reading table and gently placed the book down on the flat surface of the table. It was fragile, and he did not want to damage it. He pulled out the bench and sat down.

His grandfather came over and stared over his shoulder, as did Warren. Nathan was slowly drifting across the room to join Berdine. Richard watched him out of the corner of his eye, still believing there was something the old prophet wasn't telling him.

"Well, are you going to open it or not, my boy?" Zedd let out a breath of anticipation.

Richard gave a nod and turned his attention back to the book resting on the table in front of him. Gingerly, he slowly opened the cover, careful not to harm the papers inside. He stared down at the faded black ink that met his eyes and nearly gasped.  _That_ _…_ _that_ _'_ _s_ _impossible!_

"Goodness me!" Zedd hooted in surprise.

Richard moved his jaw, getting it working again, and turned around, looking for the other Mord'Sith. "Nyda! Get Kahlan! Get her NOW!"

XXX

"So, Kahlan, how are you feeling today?" Verna asked as the Mother Confessor eased down into a cushioned couch, one hand on her swollen belly.

Kahlan smiled, remembering all the things she had done with her husband in the early hours of the morning. She was thrilled that he seemed to be remembering things. And her enthusiasm about that had awakened a deep need in him, and he had made love to her before helping her with her bathing—which she also used as an excuse to play around with him some more. Part of her felt guilt about having such happiness when the rest of the world was struggling just to breathe. But she reminded herself that if she pushed away such happiness, why were they even fighting to survive?

"I'm well, thank you," Kahlan finally answered the Sister of the Light. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Cynthia standing by the arm of the couch, as if she was nothing but a servant. She chuckled softly to herself and patted the empty portion of the couch, indicating for her twin to sit with her.

Cynthia smiled back. It was a smile Kahlan herself had seen reflected in the mirror many times. It was odd, having a twin she had never known, yet now having Cynthia with her, Kahlan did not feel as empty as she had when Dennee had been taken by the plague almost a year ago.

As Cynthia took her seat, Kahlan turned her attention back to the Sister of the Light. "And how are you, Verna?" Kahlan smiled, and gestured towards the Sister's tummy. "I hear that you are expecting as well."

Verna blushed for a second. "I was not aware you knew," the sorceress said, looking extremely self-conscious. Kahlan noted how she absently ran her fingers along her abdomen.

"Warren told Richard, who then told me," Kahlan said. "I'm sorry… did you want it kept silent."

The sorceress furrowed her brow in thought, and then shook her head. "No, it's all right," she asserted. "I… I guess the idea, itself, is just so new to me." Verna paused and averted her eyes for a moment, playing with her ringlets of brunette hair. "To be honest, I never thought I would get to have a child."

Kahlan smiled. "Then both of us are fortunate to have what we thought we would never have," she said. "You… the honest and true love of a man, and a child on the way, and me… being able to bear the child of the man I love, who truly loves me, and not simply because he was confessed."

Verna gave a slight nod. "Yes, I guess you could say that we are fortunate," she sighed and her shoulders slumped. "The timing is not exactly great."

"I know, yes," Kahlan agreed, placing a hand on her swollen belly as she felt Daphne begin to kick from within, restless. "I would have preferred not to be with child when there is a war to waged. I hate being on the sidelines." She looked away, staring down at her belly, and thinking of the child growing within. "I'm used to being next Richard when battle comes. That was how it was against Darken Rahl, and against the Keeper."

Kahlan returned her gaze to the Sister of the Light. "Despite all that, I still would not change a thing," she firmly declared. "This child, no matter the poor timing, is a blessing. And I would not change a thing."

"Not a thing?" Verna asked, slightly raising her eyebrow with a slightly smile.

Kahlan caught her meaning and chuckled. "Perhaps some, yes," she reached out across the gap between them and placed a hand on Verna's knee. "The morning sickness gets better in time. You shall see. How far are you along?"

"A month, maybe two, I'm not sure when I really conceived," Verna admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. She began to blush. "You're certainly coming along nicely, Mother Confessor."

"Please… call me Kahlan," she gave the sorceress's knee a reassuring squeeze than leaned back into the cushion. "I'm six months, well… approaching seven really."

"Then it was on your honeymoon in which you conceived," Verna said, quickly doing the math in her head.

Kahlan nodded. "Yes. I felt the spark of life inside me not two days after Richard and I left the sanctuary that Alric Rahl had created for him."

Verna leaned forward, obviously intrigued. "Yes, I've heard him speak of this place. What exactly is it?"

"The place that is hidden," Kahlan answered, laughing slightly at the befuddled expression on Verna's face. She gave her an apologetic look and then continued. "Alric Rahl created the place specifically for his one and true heir. Only his one true heir had the ability to even reach the place."

"Through the sliph, yes?"

"Yes, the sliph," Kahlan nodded. "An odd creature, if I do say so myself, but a loyal one."

The door opened and Rikka came in, followed by an anxious looking Nyda. They both bowed their heads, and then Rikka turned to Kahlan and spoke.

"Pardon the interruption, Mother Confessor, but the Lord Rahl wishes to see you… _immediately_ ," Rikka informed her.

Kahlan nodded, eager to see Richard. She wondered what it was about. "Cynthia, help me up, will you?" she asked, turning to her twin.

Cynthia smiled and stood, extending her hands to help her sister up. "You grow by the day, Kahlan," she spoke absently. "Are you sure there is only one child in there?"

Kahlan froze and raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Cynthia paled. Kahlan placed a hand on her forearm to reassure her that she took no offense. Her twin sighed and relaxed, but still looked sorry for her choice of words.

"I'm sorry, sister, it… it's just that you seem much—for the lack of a better word—larger than other women I have seen who were at the same stage of pregnancy that you are now, Kahlan," Cynthia tried to explain.

Verna was nodding her agreement as she stood to join them. "I'd have to concur with your sister, Kahlan," the sorceress affirmed. "Perhaps later today we should see a midwife and see what she says."

Kahlan's mind was in a tumult with the possibilities. When she had felt the initial spark of life, it had been strong… but nothing to indicate that there might be more than one life growing inside her. It was a little nerve-racking, to be honest. If it were true, she would be thrilled. She wanted to give Richard as many children as she could. Though, still, gnawing away in the back of her mind was the reminder that she could not bare him a son. She desperately hoped that his assertions before he lost his memory were true, that he had no desire for a son. Part of her did not believe him—not the confessor half, but the woman half. All men craved a son, to pass on their knowledge and family name.

"Kahlan, are you alright?"

She jerked and blinked, glancing up to find Cynthia staring at her with a worried expression, her nose wrinkled and eyebrows knitted together—again, an expression very similar to one of her own.

"I… I'm fine, Cynthia," she reassured her sister. Kahlan turned and looked up to Rikka, noticing that her friend also appeared concerned. "You said Richard had something he wanted me to see?"

"Yes, Mother Confessor," Rikka confirmed after exchanging a glance with Nyda.

Kahlan exhaled softly and nodded. "Then, please, lead the way."

XXX

Nicci closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to rest, but she could not. It was too dangerous to rest. Bree had made it quite clear that the Emperor was still planning on following the plan that Brother Narev had laid out long ago. The thought made Nicci sick to her stomach. She loathed the very idea of it. Before she knew it, she was doubling over and retching up the contents—what little there was—of her stomach onto the filthy ground.

A rustle came from the tent flaps and Nicci looked up, unable to wipe the bile from her mouth. A tall shadowed figure with broad shoulders stood in the opening, the light haloing his frame.

He stepped in and two guards followed. They came for her and roughly undid the bindings from her wrists and ankles. She was made to stand and she suppressed a cry of agony from the painful way they handled her. With fierce eyes, she glared at the man, noting that he was not tall enough to be the Emperor, though he was still of an impressive build.

She was forced out into the chilly air and the bright light. Squinting against the change in illumination, Nicci needed to blink a few times until she adjusted to the light. When she finally was able to look around, she immediately knew where she was, not the precise location, but the general vicinity. She wanted to sob for the destruction she saw. A once beautiful forest had been turned into a dirty mud pit of human filth. It reminded her too much of what she had seen in the Old World, and what had happened to it when the Imperial Order had begun to spread across the territory like a plague.

The man leading the way was a general... that much was sure. His brown leather armor was draped in a fur cloak and his crown was recently shaved, leaving it shiny in the morning sun. His chin, however, had been left untouched, and his bristles were dark and thick. And he seemed to wear a permanent scowl.

"I remember you," she called out at him, seeing if he would listen. "I've seen you with Brother Narev." She paused, waiting to see if he'd respond. When he didn't, she continued. "Vicck, isn't it? Jor Vicck?"

He stopped, his back straightening. Turning on his heels, he gave her a hard glare.

"Well? Am I right?" she asked, not the least bit intimidated.

He gave a huff and nodded in confirmation. A sly smile touched her lips.

"Does the Emperor know of your past affiliation with Narev?" she asked. "Or the Brotherhood of the Order, for that matter?"

"No," Vicck's response was quick and precise. His dark eyes flicked up to the guards and he gave a gruff nod. It was enough. They let go of her and moved back. Vicck stepped closer to her, his powerful chest rising and falling as he inhaled and exhaled. He loomed over her and stared down at her.

Nicci matched his gaze and stared back. "If you worry that I will tell him, you shall fear not," she said, then added the last bit of information she knew about the general, "...sorcerer Vicck."

To his credit, Vicck did not flinch. He remained still and firm before her, his eyes not even betraying her. "You talk big for a witch who has no power at the moment," he said.

"The Emperor wants me alive, and unspoiled," Nicci spoke back with confidence. "I have no reason to fear harm."

Vicck snarled and gave a slight nod. "That may be," he said. "But the Emperor won't be as kind when he takes you to his bed."

Nicci resisted the urge to shudder at the thought. The only evidence of how much it unnerved her was the quick swallow she took, suppressing the emotion. The general gazed down at her, his eyes slowly roaming over her features.

"You are a beautiful woman, I'll grant you that," he smirked, lowering his eyebrows. "However, you are still a servant of the Keeper."

"I serve no master," Nicci vehemently responded.

Vicck raised a large hand and curled his fingers around the silver Rada'Han that hung around her throat, the tips of his fingers brushing against her skin. His grip on the steel collar tightened and he pulled her forward, bending down to whisper in her ear.

" _Tes_ _'_ _vorgo_. It has begun."

Nicci froze, stunned and mute, not knowing how to respond to this latest development. Vicck's nostrils flared and he leaned back, releasing his hold on the Rada'Han. He glanced over her shoulder to the guard and barked out an order. Nicci did not hear it, but the next she knew, the guards were grabbing her arms and pulling her away. Sweeping her head around, she spotted Vicck marching off in another direction, shout out more commands, rousing the men of the Order.

Things had just gotten more complicated.


	50. A Message from the Past

Kahlan stepped as quickly as she could behind the Mord'Sith. Nyda and Rikka kept looking over their shoulders to make sure they weren't going too fast for her. She gave them a reassuring smile and inclined her head, telling them with her eyes that she was fine. She just wanted to get to Richard as soon as possible. The anxious expression displayed on Nyda's face made Kahlan nervous that something was wrong. Richard must have seemed very distressed over whatever it was that he wanted to show her.

The People's Palace was still new to her, and Kahlan was trying her best to get to know it, but there were still times when she was overwhelmed with reminders of the man who had occupied these chambers before. The mere thought of him made Kahlan shudder. She knew how Richard had felt when he had found out that he was a Rahl. She had seen the devastation and disgust in his face. This new Richard, the one with no memories saved her, had had the same reaction. Through it all, it was as if only her love was strong enough to keep him from falling, tumbling down into the darkness of self-loathing he must feel at having the Rahl blood.

"This way, Mother Confessor," Nyda spoke softly.

Kahlan turned the corner, placing a hand on her swollen belly, thinking. Cynthia's comment still lingered in her mind. Was it possible that she was carrying more than one child? This was her very first time being with child, so she did not know. Furrowing her brow, she casted a sideways glance at her sister, her twin, and wondered if what had happened with them, when they were in her mother's womb, was currently happening to the life or lives that were growing inside her.

Unfortunately neither Zedd, Verna, nor Nathan, for that matter, were capable of using their Hans to search for that answer. Perhaps Verna's suggestion was to be followed up on. Kahlan made a mental note that after this meeting with Richard, whatever it may be, she would send Ruthy out to find a midwife, and perhaps Nyda could go along and ensure they found one that was reputable and trustworthy. She didn't want news getting out just yet that the Mother Confessor could possibly be carrying two little ones.

To get to the library they needed to go up a flight of stairs. Kahlan eyed the steep steps warily. She turned to Cynthia and Verna.

"I may need some help getting up the stairs," she said, her cheeks turning red with some mild embarrassment at needing assistance in simply going up a flight of stairs.

"Give me your hand, Kahlan," Cynthia smiled. Kahlan returned the smile, and accepted her sister's hand. It was nice having Cynthia around, though she was still getting used seeing a mirror image looking back at her.

With Cynthia's help, Kahlan managed to make it up the small flight of steps without any difficulty. Though, at one point Rikka had to lend some quick assistance, which slightly irritated Kahlan. It wasn't Rikka's assistance that annoyed her, per se; it was rather the fact that she needed any help at all. Kahlan was used to being able to do things on her own, and she found it greatly vexing to now rely constantly on others.

Upon reaching the second floor, Rikka took point and led the way with Nyda taking up the rear of the group, Cynthia and Verna on either side of Kahlan. When they turned a corner, they had to make way for some soldiers. Kahlan smiled, seeing the two gentle D'Haran giants, Egan and Ulic, two of the very first soldiers to pledge their loyalty and lives to Richard and his cause.

"Boys! I haven't seen either of you in a while. What have you two been up too?" Kahlan said, giving them a beaming smile. The two big men grinned back and bowed deeply. Egan even gave her a gentle hug, careful of her swollen belly.

"We've been assisting Commander Barden, head of Palace Security," Ulic answered, stepping back to allow some men to pass.

"Believe it or not, we've been given promotions," Egan added, making Kahlan giggle at the befuddled look on his face, like he was undeserving of it.

"I'm sure it was well earned, Egan," Kahlan said, placing a hand on his large arm.

Egan shrugged and Ulic rolled his eyes. "He's been like that ever since Commander Barden gave us the task of training the new recruits," he explained. "We had an influx of applications to join the army when it was learned that Aydindril was under siege."

Kahlan glanced down for a moment, thinking of her beautiful city in flames. Egan put a gentle hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"Buildings can be rebuilt, Mother Confessor," he said. "We are just glad you made it out safely."

"Thank you," she nodded, wiping an absent tear from her cheek.

Ulic glanced to his right and lowered his brow. "Pardons, Mother Confessor, but we best be going," he inclined his head towards the soldiers waiting at the junction down the corridor. "We've got a squad of trainees to teach and prepare for the battle that is no doubt coming our way."

"Of course," Kahlan inclined her head in understanding. "It was nice seeing you two again, even under the present circumstances."

"And you as well, Mother Confessor," Egan smiled. "Our congratulations to you and the Lord Rahl." Ulic nodded is agreement.

Kahlan ran her hand over her belly and nodded her thanks.

"Mother Confessor," the two gentle giants bowed their heads in unison and stepped back to leave.

It was nice to see some familiar faces, and it seemed like ages since she had last seen Egan and Ulic. And it was amusing, though, how they always seemed to be partnered up. She gave a satisfied nod, pleased to know that people she trusted held positions of authority around the People's Palace. Even though everyone had very easily recognized Richard's authority as the new Lord Rahl, she would always have her concerns. She trusted Egan, Ulic and the Mord'Sith. Each one of them had proven their loyalties and she would forever be grateful to them for that.

"Hey!" Kahlan called out after them, suddenly having a thought. "Don't be strangers now!" Even though she had Richard, Zedd, Cynthia, Verna, and her handmaiden Ruthy, along with some others—Mord'Sith and D'Haran soldiers that she had come to know—Kahlan felt the need to have more people around her that she could trust, especially in her present condition, and with the vast horde of the Imperial Order turning it's hungry eyes towards them.

When the two gentle giants looked back at her with goofy grins, she waved goodbye and smiled back, and then watched them depart with their squad of trainees. Her eyes followed the new recruits. They were all so young. She felt a pang of sadness, knowing that many of those raw recruits might not survive the horror that was coming.

"We shall continue, Mother Confessor," Rikka said, having watched the entire exchange in silence.

Kahlan turned to her Mord'Sith friend and nodded. "Yes… are we almost there?"

"Are your feet hurting, Kahlan?" Cynthia questioned, concern lacing her voice.

"A little," Kahlan grudgingly admitted as she smiled coyly. "I'm just tired, is all. I was up late last night."

XXX

The late afternoon sun cast an orange glow over the barren plains before them. Cara squinted in the slanted light, feeling her face warm from the lasts rays of the sun. The wild grass was sparse and in between, the scattering of rocks dominated the scenery, but there was a part of her that felt relief at seeing it. This was D'Hara. Her home. The Azrith Plains had always been a source of great help in the defense of D'Hara. The only real threat had been wild wolves, and the occasional raid from the wild mountain tribe of the Vargs.

The last time she had been here, the Vargs had attacked and nearly killed her Lord Rahl. She could still remember that night, seeing the kilt clad warriors appearing out of the low mist that had clung to the ground that evening. It had scared her… seeing Richard in danger like that. But that had been back when he was himself, when he knew what he was doing. Now, she wasn't so sure what he was. He was still Richard, still the Seeker, and her Lord Rahl, but he was different. Without Kahlan to ground him, anchor him to this reality, she did not know what would have become of him.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she jerked her head. Narrowing her eyes, she watched a brown rabbit dart away from them and the approaching horses. Cara sighed and looked back up to the horizon, seeing the hints of the People's Palace in the distance. They were still a good days travel away, but now that they were on the flat plains of the Azrith, it wouldn't take them that long. They could finally travel in a straight line.

Turning to her left, she looked over at the monk. "How are you doing?" Cara asked, a little too sharply, she believed.

Cadelf had his cowl pulled back and sweat was beading across his brow. "I'm fine, Mistress Mord'Sith," he said, taking a quick breath. "Though Molly I think is getting tired." The monk reached down and patted the neck of his garron.

"Should we stop, then?" Cara questioned. "And you can call me Cara."

"No, that's all right…  _Cara_. I think she has a couple more hours left in her," Cadelf responded, giving her a reassuring grin.

Cara gave a nod and returned her focus ahead. The boy Merrin and the other monk, Brother Kevan, were behind them, both riding the poor donkey. Cara could tell the beast looked exhausted, and she almost felt sorry for it. The garron and donkey weren't built for D'Hara… they were suited for the mountain regions and the Midlands. D'Hara was more desert than forest. But if Cadelf felt the two beasts of burden could handle a few more hours, Cara was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

As they rode along, Cara flicked her eyes and caught the sight of Benjamin's profile, backlit by the setting sun. She let her mind wander to more pleasant things other than riding in the setting sun in the blistering hot desert plains of D'Hara… and to thought of a different kind of heated activity.

"Ho! Look!" Benjamin shouted out, pointing to the north.

Cara jerked out of her pleasurable thoughts of riding a different kind of mount, and followed Benjamin's outstretched arm. A cloud of dust was being kicked up into the wind. Cara knew immediately that it was the telltale sign of galloping horses. There was not enough shrubbery along the barren floor of the plains to keep the sediment from being thrown up in the wake of such quick movements. If they had been traveling at a quicker pace, Cara knew that they would have been leaving a trail of particles behind them as well.

Turning her head to look back at the monks and boy, she lowered her brow. "Stay close and behind us," she ordered as she reached for her shortsword.

Benjamin had already unsheathed his sword and was holding it at the ready. His stallion cantered along slowly, anxious, having sensed what was going on. Cara gripped the reins of her horse tighter, not wanting the animal to bolt at the first sign of trouble. The plume of dust got closer and Cara narrowed her eyes.

"Two," Benjamin said, leaving it at that. It was all he needed to say.

The two riders were approaching them quickly, but Cara noticed that the angle was off. "They're not coming for us," she noticed.

Benjamin nodded in agreement. "They are slanting to the left slightly, more like they are coming in from another direction."

Cara narrowed her eyes some more, able to make out more detail as the two riders got closer and closer. "A woman and a man—a soldier, by the look of him," she said.

"The woman has red hair," Benjamin added.

She looked again and confirmed it. Suddenly a thought came to her. Cara gripped the reins of her horse and maneuvered the beast around, before kicking her heels. Yelling back at Benjamin to stay put, Cara rode out to meet the oncoming riders. As her horse galloped towards them, it became clear that they were no threat. She deftly sheathed her shortsword as she slowed her mount to a slow trot as she approached them.

"Jennsen, is that you?" Cara called out, still keeping a hand on the hilt of the sword, just in case she was mistaken.

"Cara?" came the voice of Richard's sister.

Despite herself, Cara smiled, which she then quickly suppressed. She glanced over at the soldier and immediately recognized Tom, the D'Haran soldier Richard had sent with Verna, Warren, and Nathan, when he sent them ahead to the People's Palace.

"Spirits, Jennsen, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be in the People's Palace with your brother?" Cara gasped, shaking her head, knowing that if Richard had all his memories and knew he had a sister, he would be upset and apprehensive if she was nowhere to be found when he had arrived at the palace.

"Richard's at the palace?" Jennsen raised her eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Cara nodded. "He left a while ago from Aydindril. Both him and Kahlan, along with the rest, should be there."

"Oh my, I did not know," Jennsen bit her lower lip, looking worried.

Cara brought her horse up alongside the pristinely ungifted and she rode the rest of the way with them, meeting up with Benjamin and the others. Some pleasantries were exchanged—Tom saluted Captain Meiffert—and then they were off again, headed in the direction of the People's Palace.

"What were you doing out there, Jennsen?" Cara asked, not yet having received an answer.

Jennsen looked at her with an apologetic expression. "I know I was told to stay in the palace, but some of my friends from the Resistance lived out in some villages on the frontier," the girl explained. "They had no way of knowing about the approach of the Order."

Cara exchanged a look with Benjamin before turning back to the redhead. "So you took it upon yourself to go out and warn them?"

"Yes," Jennsen nodded. "I know… I know… I should have sent messengers, but these people were my friends. And even though it's been almost two years since Darken Rahl's defeat, they are still uneasy around D'Haran soldiers."

"Well the important thing is that you'll be safe soon," Benjamin cut in before Cara could say anymore. She gave him a look, but in truth, she was glad to have the conversation ended. She felt uncomfortable enough as it is admonishing Richard's sister.

They rode on for a few more hours before Benjamin suggested they stop for the night. Cadelf and Kevan helped set up camp, as Jennsen took a look at the boy Merrin, he was still in shock over whatever it was that he had seen. Benjamin tended to their horses as Cara questioned the soldier, Tom, about what he had seen while accompanying the Lady Jennsen Rahl out into the wilderness of D'Hara. When a light supper was prepared, Cara let the matter drop, satisfied that no threat was looming on the horizon, at least for the moment.

As she settled down next to Benjamin beside the fire, the wind picked up for a second or two and some of her blonde hair blew into her face. Benjamin reached up and tenderly brushed the strands aside, tucking them behind an ear. Cara glanced at him and gave a tight smile, highly aware of the others around them. The act in itself wasn't overly obvious, but it was still rather too intimate for her liking.

Benjamin returned her stare with a soft smile, then shifted, handing her some bread and cheese, which Cara accepted, thanking him with her eyes. She wished she could be more like Kahlan, and show her feelings more openly around others, but she was not ready for that just yet.

Someday, perhaps… but not today.

XXX

"What's taking them so long?" Richard groaned as he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Relax, my boy," Zedd chided with a chuckle. "Or your pacing is going to create a rut in the floor."

Richard looked up at him with a challenging glare and Zedd raised his hands, signaling he would back off. Nathan was now overtly reading over the book Berdine was trying to study, no longer being sly about his manner. Richard was a little suspicious of the prophet, believing that the older man was holding something back from them that could be important.

Pacing back and forth was getting on his nerves, so Richard stopped, and pulled out a chair, sitting down and resting his head in his hands. Just as his eyes were about to close from the fatigue of the day… brought on more by stress than anything else, Richard heard the soft laughter that was a balm to his soul.

Straightening his back, Richard looked up and saw the flickering of torchlight as the group approached. He quickly stood, temporarily forgetting the book that had him so wound up. The first to appear was the Mord'Sith Rikka, her blonde hair glimmering like gold in the warm light cast by the braziers hanging from the ceiling.

She was followed by a divine sight: A woman with lush dark hair with a blue raven shine to it, perfect porcelain skin, dancing blue eyes, and the most beautiful features he had ever seen. Her hand was resting comfortably on her swollen belly and her lips were parted just slightly as she giggled at something her twin said. Though she looked exactly like his beloved, his eyes were drawn to Kahlan instead.

"Kahlan!" he beamed, and rushed across the room, sweeping her up in his arms, despite the fact she was heavy with child. He easily lifted her feet off the ground as he hugged her, his hands gentle and caring.

"Richard," she gasped softly in surprise at his embrace, but melted into him just the same.

He ran a hand down the side of her face and planted a soft kiss on her lips, before sighing with relief that she was once again with him. Being separated from her, even within the same building was almost torture. Richard did not know how he had possibly survived it before.

Kahlan laughed softly and placed a hand absently on his chest. "You wanted to show me something?" she asked, smiling lightly.

"Huh?" Richard raised his eyebrows, momentarily forgetting why he had summoned Kahlan. "Oh yes…," it came to him and he gave a nod. Wrapping his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip, he guided her over to the table where he had abandon the book when she had arrived.

He cast a glance over his shoulder and watched as Rikka and Nyda took up defensive positions by the entrance. It was then that he noticed that Verna was with them. The sorceress looked a nauseous, and was attempting to control it as she drifted over to Warren. Cynthia stood there awkwardly for a moment before Zedd stepped over and wrapped her up in a grandfatherly hug, then relaxed an arm over her shoulder and walked with her after Richard and Kahlan.

Richard pulled the chair out for Kahlan. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile of thanks before sitting down. He heard her let out a sigh of relief, and he wondered if she was as tired as he was. Perhaps staying up late into the night making love was not the best use of their free time—what little free time they had. He vowed he would make sure they got some much needed sleep this night.

"So, what do we have then?" Kahlan asked.

"This," Richard said, standing by her side as he pulled the old book over.

Kahlan looked down at it. He watched as she delicately ran her fingers along the flayed corners of the leather binding. Cautiously, she opened the book and glanced down at the yellowed parchment within. Her eyes grew wide as she found the faded lettering and she looked up.

"Spirits… Richard… those are our names!"

Richard nodded and glanced back at the faded words on the page.

 _For the eyes of Richard and Kahlan Rahl, Seeker of Truth and Mother Confessor of the D'Haran Empire._

"D'Haran Empire," Richard said, repeating the last two words. "That's what you named this new kingdom we are forming, correct?"

Kahlan nodded, again glancing down at the faded words with surprise. Her eyebrows knitted together and she looked over at Zedd, who was standing beside Cynthia. Both had been watching.

"Zedd?"

"The book is old," the wizard said. "Richard found it in a hidden niche… that apparently only _he_  could unlock."

Richard nodded. "We think it's from Alric Rahl."

"The First Lord Rahl," Kahlan said with a nod. "I remember you telling me about him…" her words trailed off as she looked over to see the tapestry depicting the ancient war wizard. "My word, Richard! You... you look just like him."

Richard glanced over his shoulder and stared at the tapestry again, frowning. "Berdine told me that I'm Alric Rahl's one and true heir, and that I had found hidden rooms before."

"Yes," Kahlan nodded, and then lowered her voice. "One of those places was where we went on our honeymoon."

Richard eased down to be at eye level with her, reaching out and placing a hand on her swollen belly. "Where our love created a new life," he smiled.

"Yes," Kahlan smiled back, but something was different, he noticed a change in her eyes. The edges of her lips twitched just a bit. She was holding something back. What? He wasn't sure.

"While I was waiting for you, I took some time to read through the book," Richard said, turning back to the book and flipping through the pages, putting his suspicions on hold until a more appropriate time. Right now they had to deal with this book, which was apparently written by Alric Rahl himself, specifically for Richard and Kahlan.

She turned her head and her eyes examined the writing within the book. Her brow furrowed and Richard could not help but smile as her nose wrinkled in that adorable way he loved when she concentrated.

"Wait a minute!" Kahlan exclaimed, stopping him from turning the pages. "It's written in the common tongue… I… I mean the modern common tongue. It's not in High D'Haran."

Richard nodded. "Somehow Alric Rahl knew that High D'Haran wouldn't be as widely read or spoken as it was in his time."

Kahlan tore her eyes away from the pages and looked back up at him with wonder in her eyes. "What does it say?"

"Alric talks about The Place That Is Hidden," he said, averting his eyes from hers for a moment. "That's the place I took you, isn't it? For our honeymoon?"

"Yes," she nodded, giving him a loving smile. "It is."

"I remember you saying that we were only able to reach it by traveling through the Sliph, right?"

Kahlan inclined her head. Richard narrowed his eyes and continued.

"Well, apparently there is another way in, a secret path, as it were, to be used when… and here's when it gets confusing," Richard paused, as he gently flipped through the pages to find the passage. "Here. It says that this secret passage was built for when  _Fuer_ _Mosst_ _ost_ _Greschlectent_  have been released."

" _Fuer_ _Mosst_ _ost_ _Greschlectent_?" Kahlan scrunched up her nose, confused. "That's High D'Haran."

"I know," Richard nodded. "I too found it odd when the rest of the book is written in the modern tongue."

"What does it mean?"

"I asked Warren," Richard replied, looking over his shoulder to spy the young wizard talking with his wife. Verna didn't look well, and it appeared Warren was trying to convince her to go back to their room and rest.

"And?"

"Huh? Oh yes," Richard pulled his gaze away from the couple and back to Kahlan. "The literal translation is 'The Winds of Trails'."

"I don't understand," Kahlan admitted, letting out a frustrated breath.

"Its code," Zedd spoke up. "A riddle if you will, and we both know how much Richard loves riddles." The wizard chuckled softly and winked at Richard, who was scowling.

"I hate them," he grumbled.

"Exactly," Zedd laughed. "But the point is that we can take a guess as to the true meaning by the context of the sentence."

"And that meaning is?" Kahlan questioned, looking between Richard and Zedd.

"The Chimes of Death," Richard answered grimly.

Kahlan became silent, looking away and off into space, her eyes moving, yet not seeing. "When you were stricken by that plague when you returned from the Underworld after going to the Temple of the Winds," she mumbled. "I… I used some ancient spell to save you from it. Spirits, I… I released them, Richard! I released the Chimes!"

"It's not your fault, dear one," Zedd soothed her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Is… is there a way to defeat them… banish them back to their prison?" Kahlan asked hesitantly, clearly afraid that the answer would be no.

"Honestly… we don't know," Zedd answered truthfully with a sigh.

Richard frowned, and looked up, again staring at Nathan. The prophet was watching them, and when Richard's eyes had come up, he had quickly turned away, resuming his joint-examination of the book Berdine was studying. The more Richard thought about, the more he became sure something was amiss.

Standing up from his crouch beside Kahlan, Richard directed his attention at the older Rahl. "Nathan," he called out, his voice deadly calm.

The prophet turned his neck slightly and raised his regal eyebrows. "Yes, Richard?"


	51. Disclosures

Richard looked over at the old prophet with a pointed glare. Nathan had answered him with an innocent expression, glancing up from the book that Berdine was going over. Zedd and Warren both seemed to catch on to what Richard was thinking, because the two immediately jumped on the situation.

"You know something, don't you?" Zedd huffed, looking as irritated as his grandson at being left out of the loop, especially during such trying times as they found themselves in.

Warren placed a gentle hand on Verna, and the sorceress turned to ad another fierce set of eyes on the prophet. Nathan stammered, looking around at everyone. He was obviously the center of attention now. Even Berdine had ceased her studying of the book Darken Rahl had been so fascinated with, adding her own Mord'Sith glare to the party.

Nathan pursed his lips, and swallowed hard, his blue Rahl eyes darting back and forth between everyone. Richard squeezed Kahlan's hand and stood up from his crouch beside her. He fully turned towards the prophet and placed his hands on his hips, one resting close to the hilt of the Sword of Truth. Nathan may be a relation, but if he was deliberately holding back information that could help them…

"Tell me!" Richard commanded.

The old prophet narrowed his eyes. "The Winds of Trials," he spoke softly. "The ancient name for the Chimes of Death— _Fuer_ _Mosst_ _ost_ _Greschlectent_ —I've seen it before… long ago, when I was but a child, and my father would bring me here."

"So  _you_  have been in here," Nyda huffed from her place by the door.

Richard arched his neck. He had forgotten about her. He knitted his eyebrows together and noticed that she looked pissed. Glancing over at Warren and Verna, he noticed that the sorceress also looked displeased with the prophet's omission. Turning back to Nathan, Richard tilted his head slightly.

"What are you keeping secret, Nathan?" he asked. "And no more riddles!"

Nathan's eyes flirted up and they locked with Richard's. The Seeker glared at him with an intensity that could only come from one who wielded the Sword of Truth and was the true heir to House Rahl. The old prophet swallowed hard and shifted his weight on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

"When I was a child, before I was abducted by the Sisters of the Light and imprisoned in the Palace of the Prophets," Nathan began, pausing to cast a little glare towards Verna, "my father brought me here. There was a book… the title of which I cannot remember. But it was important, valuable… it needed to be kept safe, hidden away, where war or time could not touch it."

"Do you remember what it was about?" Zedd questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nathan glanced over at his friend. "Yes," he nodded.

"Well?" Richard prompted, annoyed with the silence that had followed the prophet's confirmation that he knew what the book had been about.

The old prophet hung his head and sighed. "It had something to do with defeating the Chimes of Death," he informed them.

"How so?" Warren asked. "I mean... do you know more than just that?"

Verna nodded. " _Something_  is not that specific, Nathan. And by the way you speak, it appears you know exactly what it is."

Nathan looked up at her, startled. He was silent for a long moment. Richard let out a growl of frustration and stepped forward, placing a hand on the prophet's shoulder.

"I said no more riddles, Nathan, and I meant it," he said, surprised at how calm his voice was considering his boiling anger at all the wasted time with stupid riddles.

Nathan's Rahl eyes locked with Richard's for a moment before he averted his gaze, looking somewhat ashamed. " _Kai_ _'_ _taug_ ," he let out in a whisper. Now he definitely looked ashamed. As if he should have known this all along. His shoulders slumped and Richard glanced over at Zedd, who shrugged in confusion.

"I don't recognize that word," Zedd said, he looked up to Warren, who was more versed in High D'Haran than anyone in the room.

The young wizard shook his head, raking his hands through his curly blond locks. "I've never heard such a word before," Warren admitted, looking apologetic. "Is it High D'Haran?"

"No," Nathan answered. "It is far older than High D'Haran… from an ancient tongue that no one speaks anymore. There are only a handful of us that even know that it was ever really spoken at all."

The library fell into an awkward silence as everyone thought about the significance of this. If it were true, it meant that the Chimes were far older and more ancient than anyone had originally believed. When Nicci had found the spell to summon them, it had been in High D'Haran, written three thousand years ago during the Great War. They had believed the Chimes had been a weapon, of sorts, created during that long forgotten war… a war that seemed to have endless aftershocks in the present. Their current enemy, the Emperor and his Imperial Order, were remnants of that war. But now, with this new knowledge, it appeared that their original theory about the Chimes creation was wrong.

"Richard," it was Kahlan's soft voice calling out to him.

He turned around and saw her looking up at him with her blue eyes. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. She sighed and rested a hand on her swollen belly, before glancing up at Nathan. The old prophet was watching them with cautious eyes.

"Nathan, about this book," Kahlan spoke calmly, sounding more at ease and relaxed than everyone else in the room. Richard was always amazed by her ability to put aside emotions and focus on the task at hand, whatever it might be. "Where is it?"

Nathan balked for a moment, pushing back some of his long straight silver hair. "As I said, my father said it needed to be kept safe," he said. "And I was young, very young. It… it was a long, long time ago."

"But still, you must know," Kahlan persisted. "Otherwise you would not be telling us about it now."

The old man inclined his head, conceding her point.

Richard narrowed his eyes, suddenly thinking of something. It was almost like the light of epiphany was illuminating a shadowed portion of his mind. He turned to Verna.

"How long had Nathan been held by the Sisters of the Light?" he questioned.

Verna's eyebrows shot up, clearly caught off guard by his question. She furrowed her brow and thought. "I… I don't rightly know," she answered honestly. "He was already there before I was even a young novice."

"And the Prelate?" he asked.

"Even before her, I think," Verna said, averting her eyes for a moment. "And she was a thousand years old, if not more."

The sorceress frowned and glanced over at Nathan. Her eyes flicked up to the tapestry behind him. Richard watched the play of emotions across her face, watching as her eyes focus back and forth between the prophet and the tapestry of Alric Rahl.

"Dear Creator!" Verna gasped, losing her balance for a second. Her husband wrapped an arm around her and held her up. She leaned against Warren and shook her head. "But… but that's impossible. You can't be?"

Nathan looked almost sad. "I am."

"No, no," Verna had tears in her eyes now, like this revelation had been too much for her to handle.

"What?" Zedd questioned, his bushy eyebrows raised in alarm, clearly lost and confused.

Beside him, Kahlan grabbed Richard's hand. He squeezed back, sensing the growing confusion in the room. Richard looked at Nathan, and the tapestry of Alric Rahl, trying to see what it was that Verna had seen. He studied the face of Alric Rahl that looked so much like his. He glanced back at Nathan. Then back at the tapestry. And back again.

"Oh my," his jaw dropped. His eyes went wide.

Nathan saw his reaction and gave a nod of confirmation. "My riddles and secrets make sense now, don't they?" he inquired.

"Yes," Richard inclined his head.

"Bags!" huffed Zedd, looking slightly annoyed at being left out. "What in the name of the good spirits is this all about?"

"Alric Rahl," Nathan spoke calmly, turning to look at Zedd. "The founder of the House of Rahl… he was my father."

"W-what?" Zedd stammered, shaking his head. "But… no… what? That doesn't make sense? You're what? A thousand years old?"

Nathan shook his head. "More."

"The aging spell," Verna said. "It has more of an effect the longer you are exposed."

It wasn't a question, but Nathan answered it as if it were. "Yes."

"You're three thousand years old, aren't you?" she asked.

Nathan nodded. "The world had been at a crossroads. The Old World despised magic, believing it was corrupting men's souls. They wanted to rid the world of it."

"The Order," Richard said.

"Yes… the foundations of the Order began back then," Nathan said. "When I was young, my father, he placed that book—" he gestured to the one that had been addressed to Richard and Kahlan, "in safe keeping, awaiting you. He told me about you. About your importance in stopping a great evil." He paused and looked towards Verna with an apologetic expression. "I was never abducted by the Sisters of the Light. My father called them here, sent me away for my own protection, knowing that the Great War was fast approaching. He knew that in the future, when his true heir came, I would be needed. And the Palace of the Prophets was the safest place for me… the only place where I could survive until I was needed."

"Why didn't you tell us this?"

Nathan looked at him. "I was afraid," he admitted.

"You afraid?" scoffed Verna.

"Yes," Nathan nodded. "I didn't want to admit to myself the times that we were approaching. But when Kahlan had to release the Chimes to save Richard… I knew. Then… I knew it was upon us."

"You could have said something earlier," Kahlan snapped out, angry and bitter. "People's lives could have been saved!"

Nathan sighed deeply and shook his head. "I cannot change what is or what is to be, I can only help it along the right path."

"That sounds like the coward's way!" Richard growled. "What about all those people who died and suffered because of the Order's advance through the Midlands? What about them?"

"It could not be helped," Nathan said, looking strangely stoic. "It sounds callous, I know, but for good to triumph over evil… they needed to die."

Verna scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning away in a huff. Nathan stood there, rubbing his hands together, looking at all of them.

"I'm sorry," Nathan said, sounding sincere. He gazed up at Richard with a hard look. "I made a tough decision, Richard. You of all people—even with what the Chimes have done to you—should know that."

"Dear spirits," Kahlan groaned. "You knew. You knew the Chimes would do this to him, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Nathan said, looking over at her with a sorrowful expression. "I'm so sorry, Kahlan. But it had to be done. For him to triumph, he needed to be like he is."

Kahlan shook her head, tears forming. Richard wrapped his arm around her and held her close. He glared across at Nathan. So much pain and horror could have been avoided if this man had just told them all the truth.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Prophecy," Nathan answered, deadly serious. "Prophecy must be adhered too for the light to triumph over the dark. I did what I had to do… what my father asked of me."

Richard swallowed and clutched onto Kahlan as she leaned into him. His heated glare never left Nathan. He was furious.

"Where is it?" he demanded.

"You know where it is," Nathan answered.

Richard grounded his teeth in frustration. He hated these damned riddles. Even now, when he had been found out, Nathan still talked in riddles. Their eyes locked and Richard could see the truth of the man's words. Richard did know where it was, where Alric Rahl had hidden the book that held the secret to banishing the Chimes once and for all. It was plain as day… so obvious that it was easily overlooked.

His eyes glanced up towards the tapestry depicting the man who had foreseen the misery and horror that had awaited his bloodline. Alric Rahl had known what would become of his family, the evil that would invade it. So he had hidden away the two books that were too valuable and important to be left to those who could not be trusted to see the significance of them.

Sighing, Richard closed his eyes. There was only one place where Alric Rahl could have placed this book, somewhere were only  _he_ —Richard Rahl—could find it. And not only that, but he had hidden away another book telling him precisely how to get to it when magic had failed and the Sliph was unavailable.

"The Place That Is Hidden," he murmured, glancing up at Nathan, watching as the old man nodded in confirmation.

Richard felt Kahlan turn against him. He arched his neck and watched as she reached over and held the book addressed to them, the book with instructions of how to get there.

"You have to go, Richard," she said, her eyebrows lowered in grief. "I… I don't want to be without you, especially now, but this is far too important. You… you need to do this. If our child—if our Daphne—is to have a future, you need to stop the Chimes and send them back to the Keeper."

He closed his eyes and groaned, knowing she was right. She was always right. Gently, he took the book from her, their fingers touching as he did so. "I love you, Kahlan," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "And I  _will_  come back to you."

"I know," Kahlan said, her fierce blue eyes darting up to his. "You better."

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her. Sighing, he leaned back and looked around at everyone. "It's late," he said. "Let's get some rest and discuss this more in the morning."

Everyone nodded, and Richard hugged Kahlan close, not wanting to leave her, but knowing that he must. The world was in danger, and only he could save it. He wondered if this burden had always been meant for him to carry, or if the choices he had made had led him to this point. Whatever it was, fate or free will, Richard knew he would change none of it, because it had brought him to Kahlan… and  _she_  was worth any price he had to pay.

XXX

Bree was stirred from her sleep in the dead of night. She almost wished she had gone back to her dream, hating that she found herself curled up against his brawny frame, his large hand on her bottom, his fingers softly stroking her flesh. His "feelings" for her were absurd. He had no feelings. All he had were needs… and those were sick needs at that. Honestly, she didn't know why she put up with him.

 _Oh_ _yes_ _…_ , she scowled, remembering,  _my_ _powers_ _are_ _gone_ _…_ _thanks_ _to_ _that_ _bitch_ _of_ _a_ _Mother_ _Confessor._

She attempted to shift, but his hand gripped her bottom tighter, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Bree squeaked out in a small bit of pain and squinted, trying to hold back tears.

"Where do you think you're going, darlin," his voice was low, rumbling through his body.

"Where is there to go, my Lord?" Bree asked back, her calm voice concealing her loathing.

"Exactly," the Emperor chuckled, completely missing her sarcastic-laced voice.

Bree groaned inwardly, knowing what was to come next. She could only wished that he was quick. Last night, he had been uncharacteristically slow and meticulous. Despite her hatred, she had almost found pleasure in it… almost. He was still rough, and never gave her a chance to ready herself, merely taking her once she had disrobed and laid down on the bed.

The Emperor rolled her around, moving up behind her back as he pressed her chest against the large heavy mattress that hapless oxen had to haul through the treacherous mountain terrain they were now crossing. Soon… very soon they would be in D'Hara.

He grabbed her hips, his large fingers diving between her legs, feeling her, a failing attempt at stimulating her. He always did this, thinking she enjoyed it. He couldn't be further from the truth. But at this point, Bree really couldn't care less. She was just thankful to still be alive. Without her powers, she had become useless to him. So she played up his attraction and "feelings" towards her to maintain her survival… keeping him away from Nicci.

Nicci...

Bree arched her neck and looked to her right, seeing the sorceress huddled off to the side, chained against one of the tent poles, silver collar gleaming in the glowing embers from the iron brazier in the center of the tent. Her former Sister of the Dark was awake and silent, watching everything that was unfolding. Her face was a stone, no emotions or expression betrayed what she thought about what she was witnessing.

The Emperor leaned over her and sloppily kissed her neck, his tongue following the smooth curve of her shoulder, his teeth grazing against her skin. His large hand moved between her legs, and despite herself, Bree let out a moan. The Emperor grinned against her back, pleased with himself. Bree merely frowned, hiding her disappointment in herself with her long brown hair.

It did not take long for him to grow bored. He moved her onto all fours and shifted her legs back, his large hand running down her back, fingers tangling with the flow of her curling hair. And then, without preamble—as always—he shoved himself inside her.

Bree let out a soft grunt, and bit back the cry of agony that always came when he entered her without warning. It always hurt. She was used to that by now.

At least he didn't push her face into the pillow, merely clutching her hips tightly as he pounded into her from behind. Bree rested her hands against the mattress and fought to control the pain she felt. It was like she was being ripped in half, but it was endurable. She'd survived this long… she could survive much longer. Glancing off to the left, she saw Nicci watching, the water in her eyes betraying the mask of indifference she wore. Bree knew the sorceress's background, how a criminal had raped her repeatedly, and how the Prelate kept sending the then novice back to forgive the bastard… each time just getting raped all over again.

A small smile touched Bree's lips. It had been then that the Eternal Father, the Keeper, had ensnared Sister Nicci. She was basking in that triumph of her one and only master, when the Emperor's fingers curled around her hair and pulled it tightly, pulling her head back violently, wrenching her neck.

Her body arched in pain and she could not help but cry out, earning a gloating chuckle from the Emperor. His other hand gripped her hip tightly, his fingernails puncturing her skin as he thrust harder and deeper into her, tearing her apart.

Bree whimpered and sobbed softly as the torment hit her hard. Oh, how she wished the Keeper would take her now so she could bask in his eternal glory. She longed for that. But her mission was not yet complete. She had to keep the Emperor sated and satisfied. His destructive ways brought the Keeper more souls. She took comfort with the knowledge that her suffering would be rewarded when she finally joined her Eternal Father in the Underworld.

Choking out a cry, Bree narrowed her eyes, her cheeks flushed and hot. "My lord," she gasped out. "I know it's not my place, but…" Bree hesitated and forced herself to look over her shoulder at him for permission to continue. She'd ask anyway, but wanted to minimize the pain he'd inflict on her if this were the wrong time.

He inclined his head, slowing his pace as he leaned over her, his large hand snaking around her waist and traveling up to her small breasts. He pulled her back, flush up against his brawny chest, the change in position making her grimace in pain as he slowed his thrusts to a torturously languid pace—his punishment for her interruption of his pleasure.

"Ask away, darlin," he purred into her ear.

She shuddered, hating the feeling of his warm breath against her cheek. "Nicci…," she stammered. "Why do you make her watch?"

The Emperor chuckled, his mouth close to her ear. She risked a glanced back at him, staring into the pitiless black eyes of his. His eyebrows hooked up a bit and he grinned menacingly as he glanced over at the sorceress.

"So she'll see what awaits her," he answered. "So she'll know there is no escaping this fate, and that, just like you have, she must come to accept it, and allow it to happen."

Bree wheezed and groaned, which he mistakenly took for a moan of pleasure, making him clutch her breasts tightly and lick her neck, thrusting harder into her. Bree trembled and closed her eyes, turning her face away as tears erupted again. The Emperor held her painfully close to him and his mouth sucked on her neck. His teeth grazed against her shoulder and then sunk into her skin, causing her to shake in pain as she felt warm blood flow out and run down her chest.

Now she knew. Her time was limited. If she were to survive and complete the mission her master had given her, she'd have to act soon.

XXX

The night was bitterly cold. Kahlan laid awake in bed, feeling uneasy, dreading the rising of the sun. She glanced over at Richard, and saw that he wasn't sleeping either. Neither of them could, really. It was impossible to sleep under the circumstances. Soon Richard was going to have to leave and defeat the Chimes; to save them, and their future. And they both knew it.

Kahlan swallowed, shivering as a chill ran through her veins. She reached down to put a hand on her swollen belly to reassure herself.

After they had adjourned for the evening, Kahlan took Cynthia and Rikka with her out into the city portion of the People's Palace, hunting for a discreet midwife. Rikka knew of one that could be trusted, saying she had often assisted the Mord'Sith with "sensitive matters" during Darken Rahl's reign. Kahlan knew what she meant by it, and understood. How could any of those women want to bare the child of a monster like Rahl?

Later, when Kahlan returned to Richard for a late supper in their chambers before going to bed, her mind was elsewhere. Seeing the midwife had given her something to think about, and she did not know how to broach it with Richard. The midwife had said that it was a guess, and that they would not know until she had given birth. But Kahlan had a gut feeling it was true.

When they went to bed, they just laid there, not touching. Such a thing made Kahlan ache more than she realize. But Richard was unsettled, which Kahlan could understand. She, too, had trouble sleeping, however for different reasons. Something between them seemed wrong, out of sorts, and she didn't know what to do about it.

Richard made a noise as he turned onto his side, pulling her back to the present. Her eyes scanned the dark chamber, lit only by the dim moonlight filtering through the high windows. She sighed, and rubbed her belly, trying to soothe the heartbeats within. Yes…  _heartbeats_. The midwife had said it looked as if she was carrying two. She wondered if they were going to be identical twins.

Kahlan closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but she couldn't. Tilting her head against the soft pillow, she watched Richard. He had finally closed his eyes and it appeared that he was sleeping. His breathing was slow and even, and he looked peaceful. She sighed. If only her mind could stop it's constant worrying and allow her to sleep, as well. Finding out that Nathan was the son of Alric Rahl was a shock, but not as much as the confirmation of her double condition.

Suddenly Richard cried out, his eyes opening wide. Kahlan flinched, startled, as he reached out for her, clinging to her with desperation in his touch and eyes. His breath was quick and warm, gone was the steady and even breaths of rest. She soothed him, as best she could, running her hands up and down his back, listening to him break against her, his head buried in her shoulder. She felt the sting of hot tears along her skin and cooed softly, trying to put him back together.

It pained her heart to see him like this. Without needing to tell her, Kahlan knew how he felt. He felt used, plain and simple. It was like fate, prophecy, what have you, was using him for its own ends. And she knew he was tired off it. Tired, not just of its demands, but also of fighting it. Richard was going to give in, she could tell. He was going to leave to do what he was meant for, to fulfill his destiny.

Kahlan only wished she could go with him, or at the very least, help ease his burden. Her eyebrows knitted together. Yes. She needed to help him to release the stress of it all, to let it melt away so that he could be his very best and use all of his faculties when it came time for him to meet his destiny.

Gently, she shifted, pushing Richard onto his back as she climbed over him, straddling his middle. His eyes shot up in alarm, and he shook his head, confused and wanting to refuse, having known she was fatigued from the long day. Kahlan was resolute and determined as she held him between her legs, hitching up her nightgown and rubbing against him, skin on skin. She held his hands in hers, their fingers interlaced, grinding her hips against him, slow and steady until they were both ready.

"Kahlan," he tried to protest, but she shook her head and put a finger over his lips, silencing him, her eyes doing the talking, pleading with him to give in.

Kahlan mouthed a silent  _thank_ _you_ , and then pushed herself up on her knees, frowning as she did so, as it was difficult. Stretching around her swollen belly, she reached between them, needing this. Spirits, they both needed this connection—to know the one they loved was alive and still burned with the same passion and love. Richard nodded, surrendering to his own need to connect with her, to remind himself that she was alive and was his.

Kahlan was slow and steady, taking her time, wanting it to last. This would most likely be their last time together before she gave birth. She wanted to have memories of what it felt like to have him inside her, to have him love her. Richard saw what she was doing, and he followed, instinctively giving her what she needed. There was no heated displays, no fierce passionate grabs or growls, just the slow and steady sound of their panting breaths and the overflowing love pouring out of their eyes as they held each other's gaze.

She did not know how long it had been, but Kahlan began to grow fatigued from the slow rocking motion of her body over him, but she did not cease her movements, not yet having reached the pinnacle. She spoke to Richard with her eyes, asking him to take control, pleading with him to bring them to that bliss that only he could ever take them. Richard conceded, holding her hips firmly in his strong grasp as he maneuvered them around, gently laying her down onto her back, resting her head against the soft pillows.

Richard moved over her, setting up pillows and cushions on the mattress, letting her rest and catch her breath. But still, he didn't really waste that much time. Soon he was cradling her in his arms, helping her up onto her knees, her back to him. She smiled, remembering those heated moments in the Confessor's Palace when he had taken her this way. The position had given her more of a control than she thought in the amount of pleasure she received.

Using the pillows for support, Kahlan positioned herself to receive him. She wished she could be under him, feel him pound hard and deep into her warm depths, but this would do… really, just the fact he still found her sexually desirable was enough.

Richard came up behind her, bending over her back and lightly kissing her shoulders and neck. She hummed in approval and turned her head sideways, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled, feeling his straining arousal rub up against her backside as he leaned over her, kissing her neck, grazing his teeth along her pulse point.

His hands traveled down her sides until he was holding her hips firm and steady. Kahlan shifted her knees, moving her legs further apart to give him more room to work with. Richard moved one hand. It darted between them, and Kahlan moaned softly, feeling him touch her, as only he could, knowing precisely how to stimulate her.

When Richard pushed forward, connecting with her, Kahlan let out a soft whimper, her body responding perfectly to reconnecting with him. He held her gently in his hands, keeping the pace she had set. Kahlan rested her hands on the mattress, pushing up slightly to change the angle of her hips, causing new sparks to cascade through her veins.

Her body rocked each and ever time he thrust up into her, not from the force of the collisions, since they were gentle and soft, but from the amount of sheer pleasure she derived from the gentle and tender act of love.

"Now, Richard…  _please_ ," she murmured, needing to feel him erupt inside her, wanting to feel herself come undone with him buried deep.

He shifted his hands, moving them up slightly to hold her flanks, his thumbs tenderly rubbing the soft flesh covering the small of back. Sensations danced up her spine and caused her to arch her back, giving him more of herself. His arms tightened around her, holding her steady as he quickened the pace, his pelvis slapping into her backside with greater force. Kahlan cried out in pleasure, her gasp breathy and full of approval. She arched her neck and looked over her shoulder at him. Richard's eyes locked with hers and together they communicated back and forth, speaking a silent conversation of their love and mutual desire for one another.

Kahlan's cheeks flushed as she felt the unwinding of her inner coils. She loved this feeling, and wished that she could still feel it once magic was restored. But she was realistic, and knew that once Richard returned to her, magic restored, the Chimes banished, when she reached this high with him, her powers would interfere forcing her to black out as they unleashed, searching for a soul to claim that was already hers.

She panted softly, calling out his name as she came undone around him. Her eyes glazed and fogged with pleasure. She squeezed her inner muscles, bringing him along with her and Richard pounded hard up against her, almost too hard, but she kept quiet, he needed this… spirits,  _she_  needed this. He filled her with his seed, and for a moment Kahlan foolishly wished she could conceive yet again, despite that fact she was already pregnant. It felt like such a waste.

Richard's head dropped and his chin rested against his chest as he panted, coming down for the high of release. He held her close against his muscular frame, her soft backside pressed up against his hips, his hands caressing her back and thighs. Kahlan closed her eyes and groaned in disappointment when he slipped out of her, but then again, she was tired… they both were, but they had needed this.

He helped her ease down off the pillows and back onto her side. Within moments, after rearranging the pillows back to their original positions on the bed, Richard was sliding down along side her, cradling her in his arms, pulling her back flush up against his chest. He kissed the back of her neck and nuzzled her hair.

"I love you, Kahlan," he murmured into her ear. "Thank you."

He kissed her ear and she shifted, turning around onto her other side, wanting to see his eyes. "No… it is  _I_  who should be thanking you, Richard," Kahlan whispered, her hand on his still heaving chest.

"Why?" he questioned, like it was a puzzle to him.

"For relenting to my foolish need to feel you, to be with you, even when there is more to worry about then my silly needs," Kahlan explained, blushing at her selfishness during the times they lived.

"Shh," Richard admonished her, shaking his head and brushing his fingers along her jaw. "Your needs and wants are important to me, Kahlan. You are my everything, so stop this… it was not silly or selfish, okay?" He paused and kissed her softly. "We both needed that, to remind us what we are fighting for."

"Richard," Kahlan spoke softly after a long period of silence during which they just held each other in their arms.

"Hmm?" he hummed in acknowledgement.

"I think I might be carrying twins."


	52. Reunions and Departures

Richard honestly did not know how she expected him to react to that revelation. What was he supposed to say? No words came to him, so instead of speaking, he stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her, kissed her hard and deep, letting his emotions rule that embrace, letting her know that he was happy. He would always be happy with her, with whatever she gave him.

And then he held her, just held her in his arms as she went to sleep, sighing contently. His mind ran wild as she slept. Spirits, he wished he had his memories… all of them, not just the sporadic few that were left. He felt like a husk, a shell of a man. Clenching his jaw, he combed his fingers through her long lush hair, taking his time, memorizing her scent, her touch, the feel of her skin beneath his fingers, the sound she made as she breathed, the flicker of her eyes beneath her lids as she dreamed, the tug of her lips as she smiled at something only she saw.

She was breathtaking. And she was his.

Richard could still not fathom how just an exquisite woman could have found him worthy of her love. Perhaps, if he had all his memories, he would know, he would understand. But right now, as he held her in his arms, both still slick with the sweet dew of love, Richard did not know if he even deserved the small bit of happiness he had with her.

Lowering his eyebrows and gazing up into the darkness of the room, the faint hints of the sunrise filtering through the curtains, he vowed, made an oath right there, that he would do anything for this woman… this woman who loved him.

XXX

Hastily making her way up the stone stairs, Cara glanced over her shoulder, checking on Benjamin and the others. Hally and Erika had greeted her at the portcullis separating the House of Rahl sections of the People's Palace with the city portion, where the general populace lived. It was barely dawn, and much of the palace staff were already up, bustling about to prepare the morning meals.

The two Mord'Sith who had been guarding the portcullis were surprised to see her, yet happy as well. They had all feared the worse. Cara skimmed through the pleasantries, wanting to see Richard and Kahlan immediately, to make sure that they were all right. Hally sent one of the D'Haran soldiers along with a message.

The grand doors of the great hall groaned and creaked as they were pulled opened at their approach. Benjamin picked up his pace and was now astride with her. Cara glanced over at him and a tight smile touched her pursed lips. She would be glad when they could finally rest. It seemed like their rush across the Azrith Plains had been unending. Relentless, is what it had been, really. Cara had been desperate to get here, and had insisted on quick pace.

Behind them came Jennsen and Tom, along with the two monks and their younger charge. The teen boy was looking around with wide eyes, taking in the sights and sounds of the massive structure that was the People's Palace. It gleamed in the early morning sunlight, a burnt marble, tanned and strong. Cara remembered this place well. But most of her memories were tarnished by the evil done to her mind and person. Thankfully,  _that_  particular Lord Rahl no longer resided in this palace, or on this plane of existence. She hoped Darken Rahl was enduring unending torment in the darkest reaches of the Underworld.

As the door jerked to a stop, fully opened, Cara smiled, seeing the familiar tall skinny silhouette of the wizard. Her teeth actually showed in her smile, it was that beaming.

"Zedd!" she cried out, surprised at how excited and relieved she sounded.

Zedd arched up his bushy eyebrows, stunned as well at the Mord'Sith's tone. But he smiled nonetheless, and greeted her with a warm grandfatherly hug. Cara squeezed him back, finding that she had truly missed him. He was like a father figure to her, though she'd never admit it, even under extreme torture. She was a Mord'Sith, after all, she still had her pride.

"How are you, my dear?" Zedd inquired, as they backed out of their awkward embrace.

"Good," she replied quickly, looking over to gesture towards Jennsen. "Look what I found wandering the desert."

"Jennsen!" Zedd grinned broadly.

"Grandfather!" Jennsen squealed slightly, and Cara stepped aside to let granddaughter and grandfather embrace.

Cara felt a slight tinge of jealousy. She had no family. She didn't even know if her sister was still alive, or even if she was still in Stocroft, if the village even existed anymore.

When Jennsen backed away, Zedd turned and looked at the three newcomers—the two monks and the teenage boy. "My word, is that you, Cadelf?" Zedd hooted, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment.

The monk, Cadelf, lowered his cowl and nodded. "I'm surprised that you remember me, Zeddicus. It has been a long time."

Zedd guffawed loudly and greeted the Prior with a firm slap on the shoulder, like they were old school chums. "How can I forget the only wizard to turn his back on the Wizard's Conclave and join a religious order?"

"We all serve the Creator, Zeddicus, just in different ways," Cadelf spoke with an easy smile.

The wizard nodded in agreement. "Well, what brings you here then, my good man?" Zedd inquired, folding his arms across his chest, and taking up the stance of the First Wizard.

"To speak with the Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl," Cadelf said, exchanging a glance with his young colleague. "Brother Kevan?"

"Ah, oh, yes, Brother Prior," the young man quickly parted the cloak he wore over his habit and pulled out a cylindrical leather satchel.

Cara watched as Kevan handed the carrier to his superior. Cadelf took it and turned to Zedd. "As I no doubt believe you are aware, my old friend, the Chimes of Death are about and causing mischief," the Brother Prior of the Order of Ulrich spoke. "The Abbot of the Cloister at Tinnar sent word with young Kevan here... the sacred Shrine of Timon is alive with music."

"The Shrine of Timon?" Zedd echoed, his hand coming up to rest on his cheek, his eyes wide with realization. "Dear spirits, why didn't I think of that?"

Cadelf gave a small knowing smile. "I believe you were 'tending' to Jezelle at the time we learned of that during how studies, old friend."

"Oh… oh yes," Zedd visibly blushed.

Cara narrowed her eyes. "Whose this Jezelle, Wizard?" she smirked, liking the way Zedd squirmed in embarrassment.

"A young sorceress we trained with, no one of any real importance, Cara," he dismissed quickly, his blush becoming more pronounced.

"You missed several classes because of her," Cadelf said, shaking his head. "Anyway, we can tease the First Wizard for his youthful follies later, Mistress Cara… right now, we must speak with the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor."

Cara gave a nod. "Yes. Are they up yet, Zedd?"

"Oh, I don't think they ever really went to bed," Zedd said, then glanced behind him, as if to check to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

When he looked back, he held a smirk on his lips and Cara had a pretty good idea that most of the people dwelling in the chambers around the private rooms of the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor had gotten very little sleep do to certain noises drifting through the halls.

Zedd looked at her, and huffed, rolling his eyes. "All right, come with me… all of you," he included everyone. "We can wait in the dining hall."

XXX

Kahlan woke slowly, the fog of sleep receding from her mind. Blinking in the faint light of the dawn, she reached across to feel a cool and empty bed. Her eyes snapped wide open and she pushed up, looking around for Richard. Her heart jumped into her throat and her breath became strangled.

"Richard?" she choked out his name, desperate to have him by her side again. He was going to leave today, but until then, she wanted to be near him.

"I'm here," his voice was calm, soothing. Just hearing his voice was enough to bring her some comfort.

"Where?" she called out, squinting in the dim light.

"Here."

There was a rustle and the curtains parted, more light illuminating the room. Richard stood in the opening, the morning sunlight haloing his strong form as he stood there, dressed in his black War Wizard's outfit. Gone was the woodsman, now stood the Lord Rahl. She could feel his eyes on her, and she shifted, sitting up.

"I… I thought you had left," Kahlan mumbled, hating how weak and needy her voice sounded.

"Not yet," Richard shook his head and crossed the threshold, stepping closer.

Kahlan gasped at his appearance. "Richard… did you sleep at all last night?"

His mouth was a thin line as she shook his head in the negative. Kahlan crossed her arms and gave him a stern look.

"That's not very healthy, Richard, you needed your sleep," she paused and frowned. "We… we probably shouldn't have even made love."

"Shh," he had covered the distance between them and his finger was on her lips, silencing her. "No… nothing. I regret nothing we did last night, Kahlan. Nothing. I needed it… you needed it. We both needed it."

"But you didn't sleep!" she protested, shaking her head and looking despondently up at him. "Richard, spirits, you needed your rest."

He straightened his back and his shoulders squared. His eyes, though tired looking, also blazed with the fire of determination. "I've rested enough," he nearly growled. "It is time I do something about what is happening, Kahlan. I'm the Seeker, right? And the Lord Rahl?"

"Yes," she nodded feebly, unsure what he was going on about.

"I'm their leader," he gestured towards the balcony, indicating the mass of people outside, the refugees from all across the two territories—the Midlands and D'Hara… together, here, at the People's Palace, ready to make their final stand against the coming darkness. Kahlan watched as his shoulders sagged. "I should be doing more than lying here in comfort with the warmth of my wife's body besides mine." He paused for a bit, turning around to look back outside. "I should be out there… fighting for those that cannot."

"Richard," Kahlan choked out his name, suddenly terrified for him.

He turned around to face her, his tired eyes filled with so much love that it nearly made her heart burst. Richard slowly returned to her, his strong hand coming up to hold her cheek. She sighed and closed her eyes, easing into his touch. "I love you, Richard," she murmured. "You are the most selfless man I have ever known."

"And you are my guiding light, Kahlan," Richard replied, slipping onto the bed with her, running his hand down her face and brushing her hair back. "Without you, I am nothing. I am not the man I am now." He paused, swallowing hard. "I must do this, for you, and for our unborn children… twins, eh?"

Kahlan bit her lower lip to help herself stifle the tears that wanted to come. "I thinks so," she inclined her head. "Yes."

Leaning forward, he gently kissed her, then held her to him, stroking her hair with his fingertips. Kahlan clutched onto him, fisting his tunic in her hand, burying her head into his chest. She was going to miss him… miss this. But she couldn't be selfish. She needed to think of the others. The people needed him out there, not in here tending to his wife's selfish needs.

A knock came from the chamber door and Richard shifted. "Yes?"

"Lord Rahl, Mistress Cara and Captain Meiffert have arrived."

Kahlan stiffened. Cara… If Cara and Captain Meiffert were here, that could only mean one thing.

Aydindril had fallen.

XXX

"Lord Rahl!" Cara called out when he entered the dining hall, Kahlan behind him.

The Seeker noticed how the Mord'Sith's eyes took in Kahlan's growth, clearly surprised. Her attention soon returned to him, though. He smiled at her and, before she could object, pulled her into a hug.

"It's good to see you, Cara," he said.

He felt Cara stiffen the moment he wrapped his arms around her, but she soon relaxed and returned the embrace. "It's good to see you, Richard," she allowed herself the use of his name.

"Kahlan," Cara nodded, and was immediately swept up in another hug, this one coming from the Mother Confessor. She looked at Richard for rescue, but he just chuckled and shook his head.

"Lord Rahl," the D'Haran captain saluted, clapping a fist to his chest.

Turning, Richard eyed Captain Meiffert. He did not really remember the man, saved for their time in Aydindril, but from what Kahlan had told him, he had once stumbled upon Cara and the young captain in a compromising position… caught in the act, so to speak. He did not recall the episode, having little memories of anything saved Kahlan and his work in re-humanizing the Mord'Sith.

It was, however, clear to him, that the two, Cara and Benjamin, cared deeply for one another. He was glad for that. With the life Cara had led prior to meeting him, Richard believed she deserved to have someone who loved her for her, not for ulterior motives. And it appeared the Captain Benjamin Meiffert was that man.

He gave the captain a nod, and turned back to Cara, ready to rescue her, but was stopped when a red-haired woman collided with him and hugged onto him fiercely.

"Oh Richard!" she enthused. "It's so good to see you."

Richard stood there awkwardly, unsure of whom this woman was. He tentatively returned her hug, thinking it was the best course of action. When the red-haired woman backed away and looked up at him with an expectant smile, Richard looked over to Kahlan and Cara, seeing them both hiding amused smiles.

"What?"

"She's your sister, Richard," Kahlan answered him, giving him a sly smile, knowing the reason behind the befuddled look on his face.

"I have a sister?"

"You don't remember me?" his… well, apparently, his sister asked.

"No, I don't… I… I'm sorry," he felt his voice crack, tears forming in his eyes. Spirits, this hurt the most, having family and not remembering them.

"I'm Jennsen," she spoke calmly, though he could tell she was trying to bottle up her emotions. "And we really haven't known each other for that long… but you… you, Zedd, and Kahlan… you're all the family I have."

Richard placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to soothe her as her control faltered and tears streaked down her cheeks. He saw it. He could see the family resemblance. Suddenly tears were manifesting themselves in his eyes, and he pulled Jennsen to him, hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go, because having her in his arms was tangible proof that he was more than what he knew or remembered.

After a time, the siblings regained their composure, and Jennsen detached from him to stand next to their grandfather, who placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. Richard took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. He felt no shame for his display of emotion. It was real… and real was better than denial.

Swallowing hard, Richard looked back up to Cara and Captain Meiffert. "So, were you two the only ones to make it out?" he asked.

Kahlan stepped back and returned to his side, her hands clasped in front of her swollen belly, her eyes downcast as she listened. He knew she was trying to hide the tears that would come when she heard of what had become of her beautiful city.

"Yes, just us," Cara confirmed, glancing over at Meiffert. "Nicci and General Sheldon stayed behind with a group of volunteers."

"And… and Aydindril?"

"I'm sorry, Kahlan," Cara averted her eyes for a moment. "It fell."

Kahlan's hand was suddenly in his. He squeezed it, trying to comfort her. Richard knew she was collapsing inside, despite the emotionless mask of a confessor she wore over her beautiful face. Shifting, he wrapped an arm around her and allowed her to lean against him. He could give her that much, at least.

"The Wizard's Keep!" Zedd shouted from across the dining hall.

Richard frowned and looked over, seeing his grandfather and Nathan—who he was still irritated with—marching over. They had been standing next to two men, both wearing the habits of monks from the Order of Ulrich. There was also a young teenage boy with them, looking around in awe at the dining hall they were in.

"Zedd?"

"Quiet, my boy," Zedd huffed. "Cara… the Wizard's Keep?"

"Nicci said she would use what magic she had left to place protective spells around it," Cara explained, trying to slow down the conversation. Zedd was going at a hurried pace that was throwing everyone off.

"Zedd," Richard cut in, silencing the wizard.

"Sorry, Richard," the wizard let out a breath of frustration. "There are just a lot of artifacts that… um… are dangerous."

"But Zedd," Richard frowned. "How can they be dangerous with magic fading?"

"Richard, you're planning on going out to stop the Chimes," Zedd pontificated, as if it was obvious. Nathan nodded besides him. "And when you do, because—believe me, my boy, I know you, you'll defeat them—those artifacts will once again be imbued with that magic."

"Oh," he nodded, understanding.

"Don't worry, Wizard," Cara spoke up, trying to finish up the conversation. "I don't think the Order will get anywhere near the Wizard's Keep. Not with Nicci there."

"Do you think so?" Zedd inquired, looking doubtful.

"I know," Cara declared. She looked away for a moment, and took a deep breath. "Nicci told me her plan. She and Sheldon were going to line the bridge with Dragon's Breath. If the Order broke through their final defenses, then Nicci would ignite the Dragon's Breath and bring the bridge down."

Zedd's bushy eyebrows shut up. "What an ingenious plan!" He turned to Richard and gave a nod.

"Yes, that would work," Nathan concurred.

"It's probably already happened," Meiffert spoke up, his eyes serious; yet full with regret as well.

Richard thought the man might have some guilt over leaving them behind in Aydindril. He reached over and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "There was nothing more you could have done," he assured the captain.

Meiffert nodded. "I know, it's just that… if… if General Sheldon or Sister Nicci survived the final assault, then they are probably prisoners by now."

"The Order doesn't keep prisoners…," Nathan butted in. "Well, that is, unless you're a woman."

Richard noticed Cara shuddering and stepping closer to the D'Hara captain. Kahlan clutched on to him, shivering slightly. He knew she was remembering the things Cynthia had told her about her captivity in the Order's camp. If it hadn't been for Nicci, Cynthia, and Verna—for that matter, Richard and Kahlan would never have known what happened in the camps of the Order. All three of those women had had some contact with that vile cult of humanity in some form or another. So far, Cynthia had been the only one to be directly abused and used. Richard feared that Nicci would be added to that list, if she weren't on it already.

"Perhaps the Order might have some other uses for Nicci, though…. besides the terribly obvious," Nathan broached.

"What do you mean?" Cara asked.

"Her magic," Nathan elaborated. "Nicci, like Richard, possess subtractive magic. Additive magic, the kind both Zedd and myself can wield has diminished, but subtractive magic… even though it too will fade in time, can still be used."

"You don't think they'd turn her against us?" Zedd questioned, his brow furrowing in concern.

"No," Kahlan was the first to speak, sounding more certain than even Richard would have believed. "She's changed. She's not one of them. And besides… she's a very beautiful woman… I'm sure they'll be focused on… on her other use first." She shuddered and Richard hugged her tight, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

A strange sort of silence descended upon them. Zedd cleared his throat, being the first to break it. "Uh… Richard, I'd like to introduce you to someone," he turned and gestured towards the monks.

The two men came over, the young teenage boy following. As they approached, the senior of the two monks reached up and pulled down his cowl. Richard studied him. He was a regal looking man, with a note of confidence and assuredness that Richard knew, by watching Zedd and Nathan, were telltale signs of a wizard. Whoever this man was, in a past life, he had been a wizard, but now he had donned the cowl and served the Creator as a Brother of Ulrich.

"Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor," the man bowed reverently, as did his young colleague. "I am the Brother Prior of the Monastery at Obentan. And Brother Kevan, here, is from the Cloister at Tinnar."

"And what is your name?" Richard demanded, perhaps a little too sharply. He gave an apologetic face and the man bowed.

"My apologies, Lord Rahl," he said. "I am Cadelf."

"Back when I was... well, bags… when I was younger than you, my boy, Cadelf and I trained together at the Wizard's Keep," Zedd informed Richard. "After we reached completion of our training, Cadelf… er… had a difference of opinions with the Wizard's Conclave."

"All in the past," Cadelf said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "Obviously, I took up the cowl and joined the Order of Ulrich. I serve the Creator, as all who serve others do."

Richard nodded, satisfied in the man's trustworthiness.

"Lord Rahl, Mother Confessor," Cadelf included Kahlan. "I bring a message from the Abbot of Tinnar." He held up a cylindrical container.

Richard tentatively took it and broke the seal. Inside was a scroll. Tilting the container back, he brought the scroll out and unrolled it. "Music plays in the Shrine of Timon," Richard read. Frowning, completely confused, he looked up at the others. "What does that mean?"

Kahlan grabbed the scroll from him and read the note herself. The letter had originally been addressed to her, but Cadelf had presented it to Richard, since he was the Lord Rahl. "Richard, this phrase… it's been passed down from Mother Confessor to Mother Confessor," she said in a soft trembling voice. "It's a warning… and… and I only know it because my mother had been Mother Confessor before Serena."

"So it's important?" Richard asked.

"Yes… very," Kahlan stressed.

"The Wizard's Conclave have also passed down this warning," Zedd said, glancing over at Cadelf. The monk inclined his head, and Zedd went on. "As First Wizard, I know of the purpose of this warning. You see, long ago back during the formation of the Midlands Alliance, during the Great War, the Chimes had been unleashed as a weapon, as you know. A wizard, named Timon, found the Chimes and banished them. The battle weakened him, and he died not soon after. But before he succumbed to his injuries, he told his apprentice, Merrit—"

"He's the wizard that created confessors," Kahlan interjected, keeping Richard informed.

"Yes," Zedd nodded. "So, before he died, Timon passed on the location of where he had defeated the Chimes. However, the region of Tinnar is quite expansive, and expeditions sent there were never able to find the exact location."

"And this Shrine of Timon?" Richard questioned.

"The Cloister of Tinnar was build around it," Cadelf supplied.

"It was on the suggestion of the Wizard's Conclave that the Order of Ulrich build a sanctuary around the shrine," Zedd elaborated. "By that time, Merrit had become First Wizard and had created the confessors. It is believed he never shared the complete details of what his former master had told him, but he did pass down the warning about the music."

"I don't understand," Richard shook his head, placing a hand on his forehead. All of this was very confusing.

"Timon constructed the shrine with his magic, as a warning signal, in case the Chimes of Death ever returned to their worldly home," Cadelf informed him.

Richard blinked. "Wait! Did you say  _worldly_ _home_?"

"Yes," Cadelf nodded. "The Chimes of Death dwell there, and it is there that they can be banished."

" _Fuer_ _Owbens_ ," Nathan mumbled.

"Yes," the monk nodded. "The Ovens."

"You know High D'Haran?" Richard asked.

Cadelf inclined his head, and Zedd chuckled. "Cadelf here is versed in more languages than I can recall!"

Richard lowered his brow in thought. "Hold on," he turned and summoned one of the Mord'Sith over. "Go find Berdine. Tell her to come here with the book I found hidden in the niche."

The Mord'Sith inclined her head, and then hurried away, eager to fulfill her orders. Richard gave a nod, and then turned back to Cadelf. "I… I hate to ask this, but… I'll need a guide."

"Richard?" Kahlan pleaded softly.

"I have to do this, Kahlan," he told her, and caressed the side of her face. "I have too."

"I know," she lowered her head.

Richard sighed and kissed her forehead. Turning back to Cadelf, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. The monk exchanged a glance with Zedd and Kahlan, and then bowed his head. "If my services are required by the Lord Rahl, then I shall be more than pleased to render them," he said.

"Thank you," Richard inclined his head.

"Wait a minute!" Cara snapped, giving them all a fierce glare. "What's going on here?"

"I need to stop the Chimes," Richard said. "And to do that, I need to leave and go back to the hidden place that Alric Rahl made for me. There's a book there… it should help me."

"Oh? And who's bright idea was that?" she rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Let me guess,  _yours_!" Cara shook her head. "Well, that's it, I'm coming."

"What?" Richard almost laughed.

"No way I'm letting you go out there without protection," Cara quipped back, raising an eyebrow. "I'm coming… and that's final."

Richard shook his head. "There's no way I can talk you out of it?"

"No," Cara stated firmly. Meiffert looked worried and he came up to stand beside Cara. The Mord'Sith ignored him, at least for the moment.

"Cara… thank you," Kahlan said softly, nodding slightly.

"Think nothing of it, Kahlan," Cara asserted. "After all, one of us has got to babysit him. He gets into too much trouble on his own."

Her comment lightened the mood and everyone laughed, even Richard, who was the butt of the joke. A sound from the doors caught everyone attention and they turned, seeing two men-like-giants stepped in. Kahlan had told him about them earlier. Apparently their names were Egan and Ulic, and they had been the first D'Haran soldiers to seek him out and pledge their loyalty to him as their Lord Rahl. They were followed by the buxom Berdine. She almost pranced over to them, the aged book in her hands.

"Here's the book, Lord Rahl," Berdine said, handing it over.

"Thank you, Berdine," he said. "Anything with that other book?"

"No," she shook her head. "It talks a lot about the  _Fuer_ _grissa_ _ost_ _drauka_  and the time of the reckoning, but nothing more than that."

"The time of the reckoning?" Richard arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know… now," Berdine was way too upbeat for the grim state of the world.

Richard shook his head, and then turned back to Cadelf. "Can you read this?" he questioned, opening the book to a page with the ancient tongue that no one else had been able to read.

Cadelf gingerly took up the book and examined the writing. "Yes," he said, after a long moment. "It's called Darah. It is the ancient language spoken during the early days of D'Hara."

Zedd and Nathan looked intrigued. The prophet knitted his regal eyebrows together and watched as Cadelf handed the book back to Richard.

"It took me nearly a lifetime—a lot of research was involved, but I believe I now have, at least, a fundamental working knowledge of rudimentary Darah," Cadelf explained.

Nathan inhaled quickly and looked towards Zedd, before turning to the monk. "Do you know what  _Kai_ _'_ _taug_  means?"

Cadelf repeated the word softly and narrowed his eyes, mulling it over. "Well,  _kai_  means ruler or decider," he said after a pause. "And  _taug_  is something similar to fate or destiny."

"Then could you translate it as the Decider of Fate?" Nathan questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, you could," Cadelf nodded.

Nathan looked up towards Richard. "The Decider of Fate," he repeated.

"Oh my word!" Zedd gasped, seeing it before Richard. " _Fuer_ _grissa_ _ost_ _drauka_ , my boy… that's your name in prophecy. Literally it means the Bringer of Death, but that, in itself, is a metaphor for Decider of Fate."

Richard shook his head, getting tired of all the interfering from the past in the form of prophecy. "So you're saying that this  _Kai_ _'_ _taug_  is me?"

"Yes," Zedd and Nathan nodded in unison.

Groaning, Richard turned to Kahlan, who gave him a soft smile and rubbed his back. "You are far more important than you shall ever know, Richard," she told him.

Sighing, he gave a nod, surrending to it all.

XXX

The horses were packed and ready.

Kahlan stood at the base of the massive stairs leading up to the great hall of the House of Rahl—Egan and Ulic standing protectively behind her—watching, almost forlornly as Richard spoke with the new general of the D'Haran army, Benjamin Meiffert.

With Reibisch killed during the Order's siege of Aydindril, and Sheldon either dead or captured, there was a gap in the chain of command. Since both Kahlan and Richard knew Meiffert the most, and trusted him with their lives—not to mention First Mistress Cara's high recommendation and praise—he had been selected to be the army's commander.

Kahlan smiled softly as she looked over at Cara. Her friend had had difficulty hiding her pride when they had told the captain of his promotion. She had even thought that the Mord'Sith might actually kiss the man openly in front of everyone. But Cara had restrained herself. However, when Richard had given those who were accompanying him on his quest four hours to prepare, Cara and Meiffert had disappeared. Kahlan had a feeling that the Mord'Sith had used that time to give the newly named general a more proper congratulation.

Playing with her hands over her swollen belly, Kahlan tilted her head back up to watch as Richard gave some last minute orders before turning and coming towards her.

"I'm leaving you in command, Kahlan," he said softly as he took her hands in his. "I've told Meiffert to promote Zimmer to the rank of captain and put him in command of the First File. Along with Rikka and the other Mord'Sith, you shall also have Captain Zimmer's protection."

Kahlan nodded. "Not to mention my friendly giants here."

Egan and Ulic both smirked and bowed their heads. Richard inclined his back, thanking them silently with his eyes. Kahlan knew it eased his worried mind to know that there were two men like these who would gladly lay down their own lives if it meant she would live. She knew it made him feel better at leaving her behind.

"I wish I could go with you," Kahlan admitted, unashamedly pouting.

Richard chuckled softly, and cupped her cheek in his palm. "No you don't," he said. "And besides, you have more than enough to do here." Dropping his other hand, he tenderly caressed the curve of her swollen belly with his thumb. "And if you are, in fact, carrying twins… I want you here, amongst people who can help you."

Kahlan nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "Zedd and Verna have already offered to help me administer the city." She sighed and lowered her head, resting it against his. Raising her hands, she clutched at him and pulled Richard close, kissing him slowly. Leaning back, she shared a breath with him, before gazing up into his soulful brown eyes. "Come back to me, Richard."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek and wiping away her tears with his fingers while he brushed her hair back from her face as it blew wildly about in the wind. Richard kissed her forehead and then hugged her tightly, seeking out her lips for one final kiss. "I love you, my confessor," he murmured. "And I will return… you have my oath as the Seeker of Truth, but more importantly… as your husband."

Not wanting to let go, Kahlan let out a soft sob, and released her hands, letting him drift back. His fingers caressed the side of her face and ran down her jaw before dropping away. "I love you, Richard… now and forever," she spoke quietly, resting her hands on her swollen belly.

Richard held his hand over his heart, his eyes saying more than words ever could. He then turned and resolutely marched across the square to the waiting horses. Brother Cadelf was speaking with Brother Kevan, giving the youth last minute instructions. The monk looked up at Richard's approach and nodded, saying goodbye to his younger colleague.

Glancing to her left, Kahlan spied a rare sight. Tucked away in the shadows, hidden from sight, were Cara and Benjamin. The Mord'Sith was clutching onto him with a desperate need that Kahlan could relate too. And then, Cara pushed up and her lips collided with the general's. Feeling like she was intruding on something private, Kahlan glanced away, and returned her gaze to her Richard.

He was mounting his stallion and looked every bit the Lord Rahl, the silver of the Sword of Truth gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Richard grabbed the reins and spun the horse around, getting it loose and ready for what would be a long journey. Soon Cara, brushing her hair back, as if to fix it up, came out and mounted up. Richard cast one last longing look at Kahlan, before maneuvering his horse around and kicking his legs.

Kahlan watched, tears blurring her vision, as his riding form disappeared behind the portcullis and down into the winding streets of the People's Palace. She hugged herself and let out a soft sob.

"He'll be fine, dear one," Zedd's soothing voice came.

She looked up and blinked past her tears. "I hope so," she choked out. "Oh Zedd!"

The wizard opened his arms, and Kahlan buried herself in his grandfatherly embrace. There had been many terrible things that had happened to her in her life, but for some reason, watching Richard ride off to battle—for the first time without her by his side—felt like the hardest thing she had ever done.

But it was for the good of the people. And without Richard out there battling the Chimes, the Imperial Order would be unstoppable. Kahlan could only hope that prophecy and fate favored their cause and, in the end, would bring her Richard back to her.


	53. The Order of Things

Sister Bree let out a long breath, pleased that they were finally settled for the night. The day had been long and tiring. She was fatigue, but most of that did not have to do with the traveling, but with the late nights in the Emperor's bed. He was becoming more aggressive and rough with her, making Nicci watch as he took her, sometimes more than once a night. Sometimes, he'd make her bleed, others, not so much. But it always hurt afterwards.

The pain was more than it had been when Bree had first lost her maidenhood to a young trainee back at the Palace of the Prophets. The wizard in training hadn't been rough with her, and even a little anxious and nervous, indicating it had been his first time too. She hadn't particularly been attracted to the young man, still really a boy, but the Prelate had suggested to the young Bree that she take the trainee to bed. Later Bree understood what the Prelate had wanted. It almost sickened her when she learned that many Sisters and Novices would go to the beds of the wizards they were training in hopes of conceiving and bearing more gifted, babies that they could then raise in the dogmatic view of the Prelate.

It had not been long after Bree had learned of the truth behind the Prelate's "suggestions" that she had felt the pull and seduction that was the Keeper and the powers he could offer her. With the Keeper she found honesty and truth. He never deceived her, as the Prelate and the other Sisters of the Light had. The Keeper was the father she had never had, the only one who truly understood and cared for her. And in return for his gifts and patronage, Bree had devoted herself to His cause.

Even now, as she suffered each night at the wanton hands of the Emperor of the Imperial Order, Bree still felt a strong connection with her Eternal Father. Despite the diminishing of magic—as a result of that whore of a Mother Confessor releasing the Chimes of Death—Bree still sensed the Keeper and his growing strength and influence. It would not be long until he had enough souls to once again make a play at the world of the living. The tearing of the veil almost two years back now was nothing compared to what the Keeper would eventually wrought on the living once her task was finished.

Sighing, again, she adjusted her legs, stretching the sore muscles and looking out at the view before her, watching as the disorder that was the Imperial Order (if ever there was an oxymoron, it was that) set up a cluttered and disarrayed camp. Narrowing her eyes, she spotted General Jor Vicck marching amongst a throng of men, his eyes dark and determined. The men scuttled away from him, clearly intimidated, not just by his broad frame, but his perpetual scowl.

Thinking back on her last encounter with Vicck, Bree narrowed her eyes. It had occurred just before Nicci had been placed into the Emperor's personal tent to "observe" her future torment and punishment. The man clearly distrusted her and abhorred her insolence towards the Emperor. So, sometimes, when the Emperor had no demands on her time, or person, she'd spy on the general and see what he was up to.

Bree thought it was obvious that there was more to Jor Vicck than simply being the highest-ranking general in the Imperial Order. The man was more intelligent than any other man, saved for perhaps the Emperor. Both men were cultured and educated, though the Emperor disliked calling attention to that. For him, it was about being savage and brutal, and getting what he wanted.

It was different with Jor Vicck.

The man almost made a point to talk down and belittle those beneath him, which currently she was included. But his behavior around Sister Nicci was different. It was almost like a small part of him respected or revered her. Why? Bree couldn't say for sure. Perhaps it was the fanatically belief in the Brotherhood of the Order's plan to use the former Sister of the Dark to conceive a supreme being—a dream walker with the powers of additive and subtractive magic.

Once it would have been Bree to hold that position—to be the mother of the Imperial Order's super being, but no sorceress was more talented or powerful in the usage of such magic as Sister Nicci. So when the Brotherhood found out about her, they wasted no time in prompting the Sisters of the Dark (a reluctantl ally) to recruit her into their sisterhood. Yet another reason why Bree loathed her. Bringing her into their group had upset the balance that had been established. And Bree went from being the first favored daughter to fourth behind Nicci, Merissa, and Marianna.

Bree frowned at the memories. Nicci had everything she did not: Beauty, charm, innate natural talent, and an annoying habit of always getting what she wanted.

A rueful smile spread across her face.  _Except now_. She chuckled softly, thinking of what would soon happen to the sorceress once the Emperor was ready to begin. Honestly, Bree did not know why he had yet to take Nicci to his bed. It had been a while since they had captured the sorceress and that general of the Midlands in the smoking ruins of Aydindril. She believed it was already far beyond the time that the Emperor should have started bedding Nicci and plant his vile seed in her womb.

Sighing, she glanced to her right, seeing him talking idly with some of his staff. Bree was growing weary of his "attentions." It just wasn't the brutal and aggressive way in which he took her (that… she had grown accustomed too), but the soft sentiments he would also then whisper to her afterwards as he pulled her small delicate frame, which always trembled in pain, against his brawny chest. He claimed that she was special, that he loved her… if he even knew what love was, something she highly doubted.

Looking at him stand tall amongst his staff and lieutenants (something that wasn't difficult for a man of his enormous bearing), Bree narrowed her eyes, thinking about what he was discussing with them. Ever since they had come down the slopes of the mountains and had entered D'Hara, all the villages and towns had been empty, bereft of life.

The Emperor turned his bull neck and locked eyes with her. Bree shuddered involuntarily at the lustful look in his eyes, but worked to suppress it as he dismissed his retinue of underlings and began to march over to her. Even from such a distance, Bree could feel his ink black eyes scanning up and down her robe-clad body, something he had permitted her to wear now.

Despite his highly suspect reasons for wanting her covered up when she was out and amongst the men, Bree was genuinely grateful for the wool robe, not just because of the cold weather, but also because she had grown tired with all the leers and lustful glances from the men. She never had to worry about them doing anything; after all, she was the Emperor's property. But it still annoyed her to no end that they still had the courage to look. If she was assured of her freedom and complete autonomy—and if magic still worked—Bree would have leveled all those vile pigs with deadly black lightning, turning them into nothing but ash and sending their souls to the Keeper.

"Surveying the might of the cause, darlin?" the Emperor purred with a grin, nodding his head slightly.

Bree smirked. "You mean the rabble?" she bit out with a little too much insolence than was necessary.

For a moment anger flashed in his dark eyes, but then it subsided. He laughed boisterously, and then wrapped his large arm around her slim waist, pulling her flush up against his brawny frame. He was amused. No longer did he hit her when she was snappish with him. He actually seemed to revel in it.

"The heathens are nowhere to be found," he said. "My generals… fools that they are… think our unhindered advance is a sign that the fight is soon over."

Bree nodded, understanding. "The people have not run away, not in the true sense of that word."

"No," he scowled, agreeing. "They have fallen back, not run away. Fallen back to their People's Palace. My scouts say it is a fortress city built atop a tall plateau. It has never fallen… not to any siege. Never." The Emperor grinned wickedly. "Not yet, anyways. They have yet to encounter an army as vast as mine."

"No, they have not," Bree nodded. "And they do not have magic to aid them, like in years past."

"True," the Emperor's voice was low, thoughtful.

A soothing silence descended on them, and Bree tried to ignore the way his fingers were softly kneading her backside with something akin to affection. She refused to believe he was capable of such a thing.

"The end is nigh for those who refuse to follow to true path of the righteous," came a grating and unpleasant voice.

Bree turned with the Emperor to be greeted by the sight of a man approaching them, dressed in a worn brown robe, the threads loose around the collar. His cowl was up, and his face obscured, but she knew immediately who it was. This was the infamous leader of the Brotherhood of the Order, the founder and chief architect of the plans that had been set in motion long before anyone else present had even been born.

Trailing behind him was a line of followers, the more fervent believers in his preaching.

Disengaging from her, the Emperor stepped forward, raised both his fist to his chest in a revered salute for his honored leader. Brother Narev had found an orphaned Jagang on the streets in some impoverished Old World city, and raised him to be the man he was today. Since that young age, Narev had instilled his beliefs into the growing dream walker. And now Jagang was the Emperor, the head of the Imperial Order—the visible one, at least. Bree knew that Brother Narev was the true leader of the Order, having founded the organization long, long ago.

As the spiritual head of the Imperial Order stepped closer to them, a scrawny hand with long gnarly fingers reached up to pull down the cowl covering his head. The face revealed was one that Bree had not expected. Narev was frail looking, with hollowed eyes and creases and wrinkles covering a weathered tired face, framed by light thinning grey hair. He was an old man… a very old man. To be honest, Bree didn't rightly know how old the man truly was; just that he had managed to escape the cold embrace of the Keeper for longer than any living soul.

Narev came to a halt just before them, folding his arms and hiding his hands in the large loops of his habit's sleeves. His retinue fanned out behind him, creating a semi-circle. Their hands were clasped together, hidden by their sleeves, mimicking their master.

"Brother Narev," the Emperor bowed his head, showing the elder man more respect and honor than he showed anyone else.

The man acknowledged the reverential greeting with a gracious nod of his head. He turned his keen eyes towards Bree, his thin lips quirking just a bit. "You've done well with this one," Narev said, his eyes looking far too interested than Bree cared for. She had a few choice words for him, but she held her tongue.

The Emperor chuckled softly, not his normal kind of laugh, a more reserved kind, as if he wished to be more respectful and courteous around his mentor and master. His large hand came up and rested on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. It startled Bree, not to have his touch hurt. He had never touched her show gentle, not in recent days, as he had been using her to show Nicci what would be done to her.

"It has been a challenge," the Emperor spoke. "But one which I have met."

"So you have," Narev nodded, still looking at Bree, his cunning eyes narrowing. "But she is not the one you should be taking to your bed, Jagang." He turned his eyes up to look at the hulking figure that was the Emperor. "It is time to sow the soils, and plant the seed."

"What about the prophecies, Narev?" the Emperor asked, his inky black eyes casting up to gaze at the Brother's retinue for a moment. Bree had to do a double take when she saw the Emperor swallow hard. He actually looked afraid of the gaunt old man standing before them.

Narev waved his bony hand in a dismissive motion. "The prophecies of foolish women do not matter," he said. "The truth of the Creator does not come from magical scribblings on some mystical wall. It comes from the heart and soul of man. Only prophets can tell the Creator's will. Those of us blessed with the gift are the ones who know."

Bree's eyebrows involuntarily shot up at this revelation. The leader of the Imperial Order, a cult bent on the destruction of all forms of magic, was a prophet. Squinting, she narrowed her focus, using the last vestiges of the magic left to her that had no yet been drained by the Chimes of Death, she reached out and felt an odd sensation.

She yelped out and staggered back. The Emperor turned, surprised and held onto her, preventing her from collapsing on the hard cold ground. A hollow harsh laugh filled her senses. Blinking, she gazed up, uncertain, towards the source.

"Foolish woman," Narev was smiling cruelly.

"What… what are you?" she managed to ask, the Emperor still holding her up. His hold on her was oddly tender.

"Something the world has not seen in an age," Narev said. "The last and remaining trace of a bygone era." He chuckled enigmatically and raised his arms out towards the camp before. "And this horde of brutes and fiends is my legacy to the world that squander that which was given to them. Wasted on obscene and heretical ideas and notions."

"The confessors," Bree gasped out, thinking she understood. "This started because of the confessors?"

Narev smiled at her. "No… long before them. Though," he inclined his head. "They are but a symptom of the cancer—the plague—which has infected this world."

"But you wish to create a supreme being born of magic," she protested, not understanding his rationale.

His smile grew and became devilish, twisting and contorting his haggard face into a malicious demon. "Poetic justice," he explained. "Turn what has been squandered and abused on those who have corrupted it."

"A gamble," she said.

"True, but worth the risk, my dear," Narev said, nodding to the Emperor. "She is a clever one. Perhaps she might still be useful. And I sense a strong spirit in her. If the seeding fails to take root in Sister Nicci, then this one shall do."

The Emperor nodded, helping Bree to right herself. She was unsure of what had just happened. Had this been some sort of test? Whatever it was, she was positive she didn't like it. The idea of conceiving a child with the Emperor disgusted her. For the first time since they had captured Nicci, she actually felt some pity for the woman. It was fleeting, as the memories of everything the traitor had done returned to her.

Making a decision that was likely made rashly, Bree took a ragged breath and turned to Narev. "Thank you," she said, her eyes looking into his.

One of Narev's thin eyebrows shot up and he smirked. "Oh, I like her," he said, turning to the Emperor. He chuckled and then gestured to his retinue. Looking back at his pupil, and jerked his head slightly. "I have business that must be attended too. But when I return, Sister Nicci needs to be broken and under your control."

"She won't break easily," Bree spoke before the Emperor could. He shot her an angry glare, but she ignored him. Disengaging from his hold, she stepped closer to Brother Narev. "There may be something that could help us to make her more… compliant. I'm not entirely positive, but… I have a feeling."

"Uncertainty is useless to me, my dear," Narev said easily. "When you are certain, then inform me."

With that he turned away, pulling up his cowl, and shuffling off. The Emperor came up along side her, his large hand slinking around her waist and squeezing tightly. She winced internally, knowing that he was going to punish her for speaking out of turn.

"Brother Narev isn't easily impressed, darlin. Be careful," the Emperor murmured to her, almost as if he was warning her. She cast a sideways glance up at him and wondered if he was remembering his childhood. His brow was set and his jaw clenched and he was staring off into the distance at nothing in particular.

Bree shrugged to herself and turned her gaze back to the retreating form of the religious leader of the Imperial Order. She narrowed her eyes as something caught the dimming light, glistening momentarily as it cut across her field of vision. As she squinted, she spotted the man. The one she feared more than the Emperor. With the Emperor, Bree knew what to expect; from this man, however, it was difficult to deduce what he was up too.

Brother Narev paused in his shuffling, and turned to greet the man, who bowed reverently in the Brother's presence. When he stood back up, straightening his back, the fur cloak he wore flapping in the light breeze, Bree recognized him immediately. It was Jor Vicck. And from the manner in which he was speaking with Brother Narev, it was clear that the two were very close. And unlike the Emperor, Vicck did not appear to be fearful of the infamous founder of the Imperial Order.

The Emperor appeared not to notice. If he had, he made no outward sign of it. Instead, he tugged at her roughly, directing her towards his tent. Bree arched her neck and looked back at the distancing forms of Brother Narev and General Vicck.

 _Curious_ , she thought.  _Very curious_.

XXX

Waking with a start, Nicci gasped in a quick breath of cold air and blinked in the dim light. She did not know where she was or how long it had been since she had last woke up. The last thing she remembered was being chained up against a pole inside the Emperor's tent, watching numbly as he took Bree in the most brutal fashion she had ever seen. Nicci was amazed that her former Sister of the Dark did not scream out in pain or agony. She would not have blamed her if she had.

Having been a Sister of the Dark—not to mention growing up in the Old World, Nicci had done and seen some awful terrible things in her life, but she would never wish upon anyone what the Emperor had done to Bree. As she thought of the brave front the Sister of the Dark had put up as she was brutally taken, Nicci had the sickening realization that very soon that it would be her in Bree's place. Nicci also knew that if Kahlan were ever captured, the Mother Confessor would most likely be collared with a Rada'Han and be put in the same horrible position.

Nicci found herself praying that that never happened.

The sound of a wheezing cough broke her through her thoughts. Nicci blinked in the dim light and glanced around, shifting and groaning slightly at her sore muscles. The manacles chafed her wrists and ankles. She was tied to a pole and it was difficult to arch her body to survey her surroundings.

There was the faint scent of dried blood and waste, and as she turned her head, she spotted a heavy iron chest, the lid propped open. Inside were horrid looking instruments, some of which were still caked in blood.

She heard a groan, accompanied by the sound of shifting shackles. Steeling her features, having guessed she had been placed in the torture tent for keeping until the Emperor was ready for her, Nicci glanced towards the source of the sounds. Her heart jumped up into her throat as she saw him.

He was chained upright against a standing table, his arms pulled up over his head, hands bound and tied. He wasn't exactly suspended, but it was close to that. Memories of her time in the keeping of Darken Rahl and his Mord'Sith flashed through Nicci's mind. She pushed them away and tried to focus on the figure before her, taking in all the bruises and cuts.

Her heart reached out to him, seeing how much pain he was in. His lip was cracked and bleeding. One eye was swollen shut, the skin puffy and purple. His mane of black hair was stringy and slick was sweat, falling limply around his face. Something had been carved into his chest, but there was too much blood and scabs for her to tell what it was. There were signs that he'd been branded with red-hot pokers as well, evident by the angry looking welts along his sides and bare legs

Trickles of blood streamed down the side of his face. She narrowed her eyes, trying to look past the beatings to see the man, but it was difficult. He coughed, still unaware of her presence, and his head lulled down as he tried to rest and regain whatever strength he still possessed. She wanted to cry when she saw the source of that river of blood that ran down his face. His right ear had been savagely cut off. It looked like it had been done with an instrument with a jagged serrated edge.

He coughed again, this time spitting out some red tinted bile. Shaking his head, his dirty hair falling back around his face, he looked up, finally noticing that he was not alone. Their eyes locked and Nicci could see just how much agony he had suffered, judging by the pain reflected in his emerald eyes.

"Sheldon?" she hated how raspy and hollow her voice sounded. Though she had been witness to some atrocities within the tent of the Emperor, she had yet to be physically assaulted. Soon, yes, but not yet. Not like General Sheldon had.

"Nicci," his voice was raw and dry, a shade of its former luster. He had been a proud man, with a rich and strong voice. Now it sounded so… so broken. It nearly broke her heart to hear that strength gone from his voice.

"It's me," she said softly, swallowing hard to stifle the anguish in her heart at seeing such abuse done to the general's person.

If she were being honest with herself, Nicci would acknowledge that the distress and sorrow she was overwhelmed with was a result of her feelings for this man. Feelings she had never expected to develop, especially when she had fallen so hard for Richard. It seemed slightly bizarre that now, of all times, she should finally find a man who was just as worthy as the Seeker.

"Are… have…?" he struggled to ask the question that was hanging in the air.

"I'm fine," Nicci assured him. "And no… not yet. Though I've been forced to watch as he brutalizes Sister Bree."

"I'm so sorry," he said, hanging his head in what she could only think was shame.

"You… you have nothing to be sorry for, Sheldon," Nicci gasped.

"Arwin," he mumbled, pleading. "My name is Arwin… please… call me Arwin, Nicci?"

A lump suddenly formed in her throat, as her eyes grew watery. It touched her so much that he would tell her his name and want her to call him by that. She nodded meekly, trying to control herself. "All right, Arwin," she said, noticing that his lips briefly tugged upwards when she said his first name. She gave a momentarily smile as well, pleased with how his name sounded on her lips. Not to mention the way her heart had skipped a beat when he had said her name, even with his voice so ragged and strained from the torture he had obviously endured.

"Arwin," she said, waiting until he looked up into her eyes. "This is not your fault. None of this."

He heaved in a ragged breath, his body trembling with the agony he was clearly feeling from the wounds inflicted on his body. "But… I should have saved you… or sent you away with Captain Meiffert and Mistress Cara."

"No," Nicci asserted, shaking her head. "Besides," a smile touched her lips. "You had no authority over me. I could do as I wished. And I wanted to stay and help. I needed to. For Richard and Kahlan."

Sheldon nodded, letting out a long sigh.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Nicci averted her eyes for a moment before asking the question she had been wondering ever since she had first seen him. She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could, he was shaking his head.

"They have gotten nothing out of me," he informed her. He laughed despondently and grimaced, coughing in pain.

Nicci's chest clench and her brow furrowed in concern. "Arwin… save your strength," she implored softly.

He nodded, panting. Nicci sighed and looked away for a moment to collect her thoughts. This might be the last time they saw each other, and she pondered her feelings and how strong they were, and if they were even true, or just a result of the circumstances and shared experiences that she and Sheldon had been through.

Squinting, deep in her ruminations, Nicci decided that the feelings she felt were real. She had spent so long ignoring such feelings that she had trained herself to be highly aware of them and their strength. These feelings she felt for General Arwin Sheldon were not as strong as her initial feelings for the Seeker had been, but they felt deeper, more lasting.

Turning her head, she examined her bonds. Moving a hand, she tugged on the chains around her ankles. When she was satisfied with what she saw, Nicci turned to the pole she was leaning against and used it for support as she pulled herself up off the cold hard ground.

Sheldon raised his head, confused and concerned.

Righting herself, Nicci took a quick breath before shuffling forward. She was pleased when she had judged correctly. There was enough slack for her to reach her destination. When she reached Sheldon the chain went taut. Stretching, she tilted her head up and pushed herself up on her toes, feeling the chains strain to allow her to get this close.

Lightly, she pressed her lips against his. Lowering back down, she looked up into his stunned face. Her eyes searched out his and she saw confusion and something else. As to what that was... she was uncertain. Oh, please say she had not been mistaken.

"Nicci?" he questioned.

"Arwin… please… I need… I need you to be strong… and survive," Nicci cut him off, not wanting to hear something she didn't want to her, afraid—a feeling she was not used to having.

Sheldon sighed and his tongue came out to wet his lips. "Nicci… I know how you feel about him," he said. "I know I cannot compare, no man can. But… even with that, Nicci… I don't want to be the consolation prize."

Nicci's breath caught. She had not been mistaken about his feelings. He did care for her. Shaking her head, she strained against the chains, trying to get closer to him. She wished she could wrap her arms around him, soothe and reassure him, but all she could do was push up close enough to plant a kiss on his lips.

Taking a breath, she blinked and looked into his green eyes, seeing hope in them, but also caution. "You're not," Nicci told him confidently, and kissed him again, this time… deeper.


	54. Preparations

Opening her eyes, she glanced over at the other side of the bed, empty and cold. Her hands trembled as she ran her fingers over the sheets that had once been warm, having draped the body of her beloved as he laid with her, keeping her safe and warm during the cold D'Haran nights. Now he was gone, and it was just her, alone in their bed, waiting.

Kahlan sighed and laid her head back down on the pillow. How she missed her Richard. She knew it was a necessary sacrifice, and that he needed to do this to save them—all of them, but that still did not stop her from longing to have him by her side. She was heavy with child, possibly two, but even that she would not truly know until she gave birth.

Placing her hands on her swollen belly, she cradled it in her arms as she turned onto her side, staring with longing at the spot on the bed that Richard should have been. She missed everything about him: His eyes, his soft smile, his touch, his scent…  _everything_. Her body ached to feel him, to know that he was there and alive, that he loved her and would always love her.

The remnants of the silent tears she had cried whilst going to sleep were still on her cheeks. Dried now, but still there. Kahlan could not bring herself to wipe them away, wanting them to remain, as evidence of her longing for her beloved. It was not just the physicality of him—the lovemaking—that she missed. It was just being able to turn on her side in bed and see him sleeping besides her, and sometimes not being able to do so because he was spooning her from behind, his legs tangled with hers, one of his hands resting on her enlarged belly, his fingers slowly running circles along her stretched skin.

Richard was still her Richard, but part of him had been taken all those months ago after their honeymoon. When she had released the Chimes, Kahlan had no idea that she would be sentencing her love to the oblivion of unknowing. Fate, being the cruel mistress that it was, had permitted him to remember some things, but not all. He was half the man he had been before, in a manner of speaking.

Kahlan had wanted him close, so that she could help and guide him. He had looked so lost and confused at times that it broke her heart. She wished she could simply cast her hands in the air and banish all doubt and fear from his mind, but she could not. All she had was her heart, which she gave to him freely, and which he accepted. His love for her, and hers for him, seemed to ground him, keep him sane and there.

And Despite all that had happened to him, he was still Richard, still the Seeker of Truth and Lord Rahl. Kahlan could not fault him for that. It was one of the many things she loved about him. His compassion and the depth of his caring for others was what made him such an honorable and noble man, a man worthy of her love and respect. So, even though it had been difficult, Kahlan had relented, and had given him permission to go on this quest, to banish the Chimes and restore magic. Because with magic on their side, they would have a fighting chance against the insidious Imperial Order.

Kahlan laid there, not sleeping, letting her ruminations carry her away. She would get no rest; she realized that now. Without Richard around, how could she? Fear plagued her. Worry haunted her. Cara was with him, though, and knowing that her friend, someone she trusted far more than she would have thought possible, was with him, made it a little easier to accept and gain some comfort from.

The Mord'Sith would rather die than allow something to harm Richard. So Kahlan had that to hold on to. But that caused some worry as well. She didn't want to have to lose Cara as well. She valued her friendship with the Mord'Sith. She wanted both of them back, safe and sound. Cara had to survive. Kahlan wanted to see her friend's growth continue. She wanted to see the love between the Mord'Sith and D'Haran captain grow and blossom. She wanted to see Cara fully shrug away the shackles of her previous life and become the woman she knew she could become.

Letting out another sigh, Kahlan slowly rose up off the mattress, using her hands for support. She groaned and swung her legs over the edge, planting her bare feet on the cold stone floor. A shiver ran up her spine as she pushed herself up, taking a moment to catch her balance, as her internal gravity had shifted. Tightly clinging to the robe around her trembling frame, Kahlan shuffled across the floor and towards the curtains draped across the archway leading out to the balcony.

The early morning light filtered down through a mixture of grey and white clouds, sending rays of warmth down upon her as she waddled out into the open air. The breeze was soft, and sent a chill through her veins, more from the cold than anything else. Blinking, she pulled her hair back from her face and glanced down at the barren Azrith Plains below. In the far distance she could barely make out the fringe of large mountains on the horizon.

Somewhere, out there, was her Richard. Alone, with just Cara and Brother Cadelf of the Order of Ulrich as company. Kahlan let out a long frustrated sigh, placing her hands on her enormous belly. Spirits, how she hated feeling like this. So vulnerable and… and useless. Kahlan hated feeling like this. It was the one thing about being with child she hated the most… all right, maybe not the most. But it was pretty high up there.

Sighing and hugging herself, Kahlan stepped over to the stone railing of the balcony and looked down at the waking palace city that was the People's Palace. The sun was still low, barely rising above the horizon, but it was enough to illuminate the curved streets of the city below. The People's Square, as she'd learned what it was called, was empty, saved for a few stray birds still nesting. The tall monolithic obelisk, all marble and gleaming, stood out in stark relief to the rest of the city.

Kahlan had learned a lot about D'Hara since her arrival here. A lot of what she learned made her realize that most of what she'd believe had been colored by the evil that was Darken Rahl. Most D'Harans, the average people on the street or out on the farm, were hardworking an decent folk, much like anyone she had met in the Midlands. They worked for and wanted the same thing for their families and loved ones.

It had taken her a week without Richard to fully grasp the idea that this… this place… was the last beacon of light before the darkness. The People's Palace—D'Hara—once the source of so much animosity and fear was now the one place to take refuge. Kahlan thought it odd, almost disturbingly so, that it was now also her only home. From the reports that had sprinkled in from scouts (who risked so much going behind enemy lines), Aydindril was in ruins. The once glorious glistening dome of the Confessor's Palace was no more. Nothing… nothing of that once noble home of the confessors had survived.

The only thing that Kahlan had really wept for was her mother's portrait. It was the only thing she truly had left to remind herself what she had looked like. She had cried in her bed, mourning for her once beautiful city, when Cynthia came in, without knocking, to comfort her. Kahlan should have been mad at the unexpected and unannounced intrusions, but she could not make herself be angry with her twin sister. Cynthia had been through far worse than Kahlan ever wanted to think of, so she had merely accepted the shoulder to cry on.

After a time, Cynthia had wrapped Kahlan up in a blanket and laid her down on the bed to rest, and then disappeared. Kahlan fought sleep, the visions of her beautiful city in flames and gone still fresh and raw, but her eyes were heavy and she drifted off. When she awoke, it was to the sounds of boots scuffing in the antechamber, and soft hushed voices.

She climbed out of bed, still fully dressed from the previous day, and waddled out to see what was going on. Gently pushing the outer door open, Kahlan stopped, frozen with shock and overwhelming gratitude at what she saw. Cynthia, Jennsen, and Rikka, along with some palace staff, were hoisting up the portrait of her mother, saved from the Confessor's Palace. When she made her presence known, Cynthia blushed with embarrassment at having been caught, saying she wanted it to be a surprise.

"Thank you, Cynthia… so much," she told her sister. "I am truly thankful to the spirits that we were reunited. I honestly don't know what I would do without you during this time."

Cynthia had blushed even more at the compliment, but accepted the hug.

Inhaling the cool morning air, Kahlan thought back on that day and all the days after that. Cynthia was indeed very much what she had needed with Richard absent on his quest. She brought a stability that Kahlan seemed to lack without her Seeker—her husband—by her side. Cynthia was, after all, the only family she really had left. There was Zedd, he was like a grandfather, but he wasn't truly blood. And he had other things to do besides worry about her.

Despite having been left in charge by Richard, Kahlan had delegated most of the work of governing the palace and preparing for the inevitable siege to Zedd and Verna. The Sister of the Light was in the same condition Kahlan was, but was only a month or two along, at the very least. She, on the other hand, was close to seven months.

Sighing, Kahlan ran her hand over her protruding belly, again wondering if she was carrying twins or not. With what she now knew about her mother giving birth to twins, herself and Cynthia, Kahlan thought it could be a high probability.

She was also worried. Worried because she should not be with child. Shota had given her a necklace to prevent conception, but it had failed. Failed because the Chimes had been released by her hand. Kahlan was concerned that that would somehow affect the child… or children, growing inside her. She prayed to the good spirits that that was not the case, that they would be strong and healthy, if there were, in fact, two little confessors growing inside her. Though, even that was something she was uncertain about.

Magic had already been failing when conception had occurred; the mere fact that she had even conceived was evidence of that. So, in Kahlan's logic, which Zedd was cautious to concur with when she brought it up with him, there was a chance her child (or children) would have no hints of bearing the same magical gifts that either of their parents had. The thought struck her as odd, that she almost longed for that.

Letting out another sigh (she was doing that far often these days), Kahlan looked out at the horizon again. There, in the distance, she saw something. The sun was finally cresting and illuminating much more. Narrowing her eyes, Kahlan concentrated on the sight in the distance, her eyebrows slowly rising as realization came.

 _Dear Spirits!_

Her eyes dropped to the plains before the plateau on which the palace sat. The vast camp of refugees laid beyond the walls, spread out, in an almost semi-circle around the bottom tier of the palace city. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest at the implications of it. Something akin to panic gripped her, and she turned, rushing, as much as she can in her condition, back inside and towards the inner door that would take her to the antechamber.

Rikka jumped up from her seat in the cushioned chair, her red leather creaking.

"Mother Confessor? What's wrong?" her voice is filled with concern. Her eyes drop and Kahlan knows that her Mord'Sith friend is worried that something is wrong with the baby.

By this juncture, Kahlan's breath has become heavy and she knows she must look awful, but she pushes past it and calls up her training, using it to bring stability and a calm to her face. The Confessor's Mask. A mask she has not worn in months. However, to be the leader of an empire—one which she helped to form—Kahlan required that resolve and firmness to command.

"Send for Zedd, Nathan, and Verna," Kahlan said, and then, after some thought, added, "And General Meiffert, as well. Have them come to my chambers." She paused and took a quick breath, giving Rikka a reassuring smile; at least she hoped it was reassuring. "I'll be out on the balcony."

Rikka nodded. "Yes, Mother Confessor," she said. "Would you like me to have Ruthy come in and help you get dressed?"

Kahlan thought for a moment, and then nodded, thinking that it would be best if she were not in her nightgown and robe when the others responded to her summons. "Yes, that would be nice," she said. "And Rikka, thank you."

Her friend smiled and inclined her head. And then she was gone, leaving Kahlan alone for a moment.

Frowning, she turned and walked back into her bedchambers. She stared at the bed, her thoughts returning to the present only when a soft knock sounded. Looking over her shoulder, she inclined her head, giving her maidservant permission to enter.

"Do you have time for a quick bath, Mother Confessor?" Ruthy inquired.

Kahlan shook her head. "A washcloth will have to do, I am in a hurry, Ruthy," she murmured in response.

"Very well, Mother Confessor," her maidservant said with a nod.

XXX

Riding alongside the Emperor, Bree narrowed her eyes, spotting the gleaming marble edifice of the People's Palace in the far distance. It would not be much longer until they arrived at the base of the plateau and began their siege. A fortress like the People's Palace was not going to fall easily, and she knew very well that it would most likely be months until they made any headway into forcing those inside to start contemplating surrender.

Giving the Emperor a sidelong glance, she recognized the look of concentration on his face. He was thinking, and she knew what he was thinking about. Last night she had been given a reprieve from sharing his bed. Brother Narev had occupied the Emperor's time. And by the slight crease upon his brow, Bree knew exactly the subject of that nightlong conversation.

Sister Nicci.

The leader of the Brotherhood of the Order was displeased with the lack of progress in impregnating the sorceress. And it would be difficult as long as Bree was the only one whom the Emperor was taking to his bed.

The last time he had taken her, he'd been distracted, his movements rushed and hurried, almost like he was just operating unconsciously, just going through the motions and not truly there. Bree had no complaints about it, as it had afforded her the rare opportunity to get some sleep. But what had haunted her the most about that last encounter with the Emperor was the almost tender way he had held her afterwards. She was seriously beginning to question her dismissal of his feelings for her.

Bree still thought the Emperor was incapable of love, but he obviously held some sort of feelings for her, otherwise he would have already tossed her aside, maybe even sent her to the tents to service the soldiers. Instead of doing what his mentor and master told him, the Emperor kept taking Bree to his bed. It puzzled her to no end, and if there was one thing Bree did not like, it was being confused.

She wondered if he would do that… send her to the tents… once Nicci replaced her in his bed. Deciding it was better to discover now, in the daylight, then at night when she was fatigued and exhausted from the long day's traveling, Bree cleared her throat and gained the Emperor's attention.

"Bree?" he said, his voice low and deep.

 _Odd_ , she thought, noting that he did not call her  _darlin_  as he habitually done before.

"The matter to which Brother Narev spoke with you last night," she began cautiously, still wary of being punished violently. Her eyes skirted up and when he showed no sign of stopping her, she continued. "I must agree with him. Soon we will be at the People's Palace, and there will be little for you to do while the siege is underway. It makes sense. And for the cause of the Order, it must be rendered soon."

He laughed, loud and boisterously. Some of the nearby riders glanced their way, including General Jor Vicck, but soon looked away.

"Have you grown tired to sharing my bed, darlin?" he asked, his inky black eyes almost glistening with mirth.

"I grew tired of that a long time ago," she shot back, giving him a glare. "Your skills as a lover are… some what lacking."

She expected a slap for her insolence, but the Emperor merely laughed again and shook his head. Bree frowned. She was not used to dealing with him like this. He was supposed to be a beast, a brute, a savage of a man, but now… now he was acting like any other man she had ever dealt with. And it nettled at her how he just let her insults roll right over him. By the Keeper, she wanted a reaction out of him. His violent outbursts were preferable to the one she was receiving now.

"Damn you," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"I'm already damned, darlin," he replied, his voice smooth and confident. "We all are." He paused and looked at her, his whiteless eyes scanning her rigid posture. "From the day we are born, we are condemned to a insignificant existence."

"Speak for yourself," she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

The Emperor grinned wickedly. "It is only through the Creator that one gains true worth in life… and death."

"Death?" she echoed. "Since when do you talk about death?" Bree gave him a challenging look. "Didn't you want to live forever?"

"As all men do, darlin," the Emperor replied with a nod. "But that is not my purpose. I am… but a man, if I fall, another will take my place."

"Oh," Bree's eyebrows shot up. "I see."

"Yes," he nodded, his broad shoulders visibly slouching.

Bree understood now why he was putting off taking Nicci to his bed. It was so obvious. She wanted to smack her forehead with how stupid she had been at not seeing it before.

"In other words," she spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully, "you're replaceable."

"Exactly, darlin," the Emperor inclined his head.

"A child with the powers of a dream walker and sorceress as powerful as Nicci…," she let her voice trail off. The possibilities of such a child were overwhelming. She could see the sadistic draw in it for a man like Narev. With such a force at his command, the Imperial Order would be unstoppable, the undisputed masters of the world.

The Emperor frowned, and lowered his voice. "Even I fear such a thing," he admitted, even to his own shock.

Bree looked at him, amazed. He scowled and leaned back, glaring hard ahead. She merely inclined her head in acknowledgement, but did not respond. That was a bit of information she'd tuck away for later. It could be useful.

"So," she said. "The talk with your lord and master?"

He huffed, and gave a grunt in response, confirming her suspicions.

Then a thought struck her, such a deliciously wonderful thought. She had been keeping her eye on the sorceress, and had spied something that could make her revenge sweeter than it already was. Oh, she was looking forward to seeing the Emperor tear Nicci apart when he took her. But this… this would just be the cherry on top.

"General Sheldon," she began, her voice carrying an airy, almost wistful quality to it.

"What about him?" grunted the Emperor, sounding annoyed. He had wanted silence after his confession.

"Just… the man seems awful stubborn and… resilient to the persuasion techniques implored by the torturers," Bree said.

"What about it?" the Emperor was most definitely irritated now with her vague comments.

Letting a sly grin pull across her lips, Bree glanced up at him with an almost sultry look. "He's in love with her," she explained. "And she… she's in love with him. I saw her, confess her feelings."

"You can't be serious?" the Emperor looked dubious and shook his head. "Her, in love with a man like that? Impossible." He gave grunt.

"Impossible or not, it is the truth," Bree asserted. "I may loathe you, but have I ever lied to you."

The Emperor scowled and narrowed his eyes. "No… you have not," he grudgingly admitted. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

Bree smiled brightly, feeling her cheeks hurt. This was probably the first time she'd smiled this much. What she was thinking was, in her opinion, brilliant, and would cause more pain to Nicci than anything that the Emperor would do to the sorceress physically.

She flirted her eyes back up to the Emperor, smirking at his quizzical expression. It was not that often that the Emperor of the Imperial Order was perplexed.

"Quiet simple, really," Bree said, smiling devilishly. "Make him watch."

XXX

Zedd and Nathan stood out on the balcony along with Verna and General Meiffert, the former captain promoted to general by Richard before he departed. The Mother Confessor had summoned them all. He was anxious, and worried that something was wrong with Kahlan.

He thought of her as a granddaughter. And she was carrying his great-grandchild. She was his grandson's wife, so that made her family. But it was more than just that that had the wizard caring for the confessor. They had been through so much together, along with Richard and Cara; all four of them had developed an unbreakable bond due to their shared experiences.

The breeze picked up and the curtains separating them from the bedchambers parted and out stepped the Mother Confessor. Kahlan had cleaned up, if just a little, and was wearing a white dress that the palace seamstresses had made for her. It accentuated her natural beauty while at the same time flattering the swell of her belly. She looked radiant, glowing in the mid-morning sunlight. However, her expression was one of distress, too close to panic for Zedd's liking.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting," Kahlan spoke up, holding her hands clashed together before her as she approached them. "But the matter of which I need to speak of is most urgent."

"Kahlan, what is it?" he asked, anxious. He had promised Richard that he would look after Kahlan.

"That," Kahlan raised a hand and pointed out towards the distance.

Zedd looked up and squinted, peering out in the direction of Kahlan's outstretched arm. Next to him, Verna and General Meiffert did the same. Nathan joined them and the old prophet scoffed.

"I don't see anything," he said.

"Look towards the mountains," Kahlan said patiently.

Zedd dropped his eyes and gazed out towards the distant white peaked caps of the mountain range that separated D'Hara and the Midlands. That's when he saw it, what Kahlan had obviously seen that had distressed her so. A long cloud of dust was rising high into the sky. The reason for such a sight was staggeringly apparent, to not just him, but also everyone else.

"Dear spirits," he gasped, recognizing the implications.

"The Order is moving much quicker than I would have thought possible," Meiffert said, glancing over at Nathan.

"They must have made quick work of Aydindril," the old prophet concurred with a nod.

Zedd noticed Kahlan swallow at the mention of her city, and he gave the prophet a quick look. Nathan seemed to read his expression correctly, because he inclined his head and pursed his lips.

"We need to prepare," Verna cut in, ending the silence that had fallen over them. "Nathan and I will speak with the city ministers while Zedd and General Meiffert can prepare the palace guards and the army."

"There is more to be done than just a mobilization in anticipation of a siege," Kahlan said, stepping over to the edge of the balcony. She made a broad gesture with her hands, and Zedd looked down to follow her gaze. "The people," she continued. "They are in danger. We need to get them inside the city and behind the walls."

Zedd looked down from the high balcony at the scattering of tents and people that spread out before the city gates on the barren plains below. He swallowed hard. There were so many people. And the Order, they really did not know how far they were away, but if the dust cloud was any indication, it would not be long before the People's Palace was under siege.

"The Mother Confessor is correct," Nathan said, his Rahl eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the vast refugee camp. He turned to the Sister of the Light. "Verna, I need you and Warren's help to organize the palace staff. I will take the lead, and General, some of the First File might be of great assistance."

The D'Haran general nodded.

"We can help, as well."

Everyone seemed startled by the new voice and they turned to see Rikka standing not that far behind Kahlan, ever watchful and on guard.

"I'm not sure the sight of Mord'Sith coming in waves out of the city gates would be wise," Nathan said slowly.

"The people are liable to panic," Zedd nodded, thinking it wise not to add to the fervor that would no doubt ensue once they began herding the refugees into the city.

"No," Meiffert said, shaking his head. "It is a risk we'll have to take. We need as much help as we can get with a crowd that size. And the presence of the Mord'Sith will actually work to our advance."

"How so?" Zedd asked, truly confused.

"We… have a calming effect," Rikka replied with a demure smile.

Nathan opened his mouth to respond, but Kahlan raised her hand, silencing everyone.

"Then it's settled," she said, her voice that of the Mother Confessor and wife of the Lord Rahl. Turning to the D'Haran general, Kahlan nodded her head. "I'll leave it in your charge, general. Get the people in and safe."

"At your command, Mother Confessor," Meiffert said with a bow of his head and a fist to his chest in salute. He turned and looked to Rikka. "I could use your help in organizing the Mord'Sith, Mistress Rikka."

"Certainly," Rikka inclined her head.

Zedd watched as the general and the Mord'Sith departed, leaving them alone, standing on the balcony, looking down upon the mass of people that were about to be crowded inside the walls of the palace city. He felt a rising feeling of terrible dread wash over him. And for the first time in quite a while, the First Wizard, survivor of countless battles and wars, too many for his liking, felt old.


	55. The Mountain

The nights had been long and cold without his Kahlan by his side. Despite having no memories, besides those of his beloved and the Mord'Sith he had helped to regain their humanity, Richard still felt the pain of loss over such separation. Especially from her… she was all he truly knew. He needed her. She was like the air in which he breathed. The balm to his soul that soothed him. But it could not be helped. In truth, he wasn't really alone. He had Cara, the faithful Mord'Sith, and Brother Cadelf, a follower of the teachings of Ulrich out of the Cloister of Obentan. They were by his side, and unyielding in their task to see it through to the end… no matter the consequences.

The most difficult part of the journey had been when they needed to slip past the advancing horde of the Imperial Order. They were numerous and vast. Richard could not believe the magnitude, the sheer mass of the army that was marching by them, heading without mercy towards the People's Palace. The sight had almost made him want to turn back, but Cara had stopped him, reminding him that their task was important and would, in the end, ensure the safety of those they had left behind.

The Azrith Plains were barren, with no real way to conceal themselves. Richard had been fearful that they would get caught, and their grand plan to save the world would end right there and then, before they had even really begun. Fortunately for them, Cara knew of hidden stores, buried beneath the hard ground, where they were able to hide themselves, along with their horses. Despite the meager supplies they had already had, their hiding places provided them with an easy supply of food and other supplies.

After their first day in one of the hidden storehouses, Richard decided that it would be best to travel at night, under cover of darkness. Cara had agreed with him, declaring that with the plains being as barren as they were, traveling during the day, hoping to be unseen, was a futile and foolish pursuit. Brother Cadelf happily took up the duties of cooking, which both Richard and Cara were grateful for, seeing as the monk was an excellent cook.

Their pace, however, during the night was slow, since they were trying to be as cautious as possible in not drawing attention to themselves. Brother Cadelf's garron, being a sturdy small equine, had no difficulty with the rough barren terrain, and actually seemed to make better speed than the normal size horses that Richard and Cara rode.

About halfway across the plains, Richard's stallion caught its hoof on a loose rock and twisted its leg. Richard could still remember the sound of the bone snapping. It had been an awful terrible sound, and he knew the moment it happened that the horse would no longer be of any use. He had no choice but to put the poor animal out of its misery. This, of course, set them back. Richard was forced to double with Cara on her mare, which made for slower riding.

The days and nights blurred together, and eventually, he couldn't remember what night it was, or how long he had been away from his beloved Kahlan, but they finally managed to make it to the slopes of the D'Haran mountain range that separated the Midlands from D'Hara.

Crossing over the mountains took them two whole weeks, and Richard prayed to the good spirits that it wasn't too much of a delay. A storm had hampered them for a bit, and they lost Cara's mare. They had to walk the rest of the way across the rocky, unforgiving terrain on foot while Brother Cadelf's garron carried their supplies. The tough little horse was a lifesaver, and was able to survive easily off the sparse grass that dotted the hard mountain ground.

It was lightly snowing when they finally made it down the slopes and into the Midlands. It felt strange to him, being back in the Midlands, after they had been forced to flee.

They avoided towns and villages, knowing that they did not want to see what the Order had wrought. Cara wanted to make a detour to Stocroft, expressing concern over her sister and her family. Richard was hesitant at first, but the worried look in her eyes, something he had never once seen in the Mord'Sith, made him relent. Cara departed from them on a chilly morning, walking at a brisk pace in a southwardly direction. Meanwhile, Richard and Brother Cadelf continued west.

"Just how much do you know about the Chimes, Brother Cadelf?" Richard asked the monk on the following morning, when they were clearing up.

"As much as one man can, I assume," was the Proir's response. His ice blue eyes scanned Richard's and then he pulled his cowl up to help protect his weathered features from the frosty air. "Most scholars believe that when the Chimes were first created, three souls had been lost."

"Three?"

"Yes, one for each of the Chimes," Cadelf inclined his head as he patted his garron's wooly neck. "From the legends passed down about their creation, it is assumed that three lives had to be sacrificed to the Keeper of the Underworld to create such heinous and malevolent beings. The Chimes were born out of death, hence the reason behind the appellation of _The Chimes of Death_."

Richard nodded, understanding a little of what the elder man was saying. They started walking at a slow pace, Cadelf keeping hold of the reins to guide the garron.

"But their title, in High D'Haran," Richard said, breaking the silence, " _Fuer Mosst ost Greschlectent_ … you said it literally translates to the Winds of Trials."

"Yes, it does."

"Well, then how does it go from being  _The Winds of Trails_ , to  _The Chimes of Death_?" Richard asked, genuinely curious.

His natural curiosity was one of the things Kahlan had told him had shown him to be a seeker of truth. He often wondered what had then singled him out as  _the_  Seeker of Truth. Zedd had informed him it was his unyielding need to find out the truth and learn all that was learnable. Richard was uncertain about that, because all he really wanted to do right now was be by Kahlan's side, but his duty to the people of the New World had called to him, and he had answered that call. It hurt being separated from his beloved, but he just knew that he had to do this.

"High D'Haran is a complicated language, Lord Rahl," Cadelf finally answered him after a long moment of thought, his brow lowered. "A single word can have multiple meanings, which can often only be discovered through the context of the sentence it is in."

"And what of the Darah tongue?" Richard asked.

"The ancient language is far more complicated, but can also be very direct," the monk replied with a chuckle. "A contradiction, I know."

"Wait a second," he frowned, remembering something. It was a strange feeling. It was like a curtain had been pulled open and sunlight had been allowed in. The sensation only lasted a brief moment, but it was enough to rouse his interest. "The Wizard's Rules…?"

"Oh, yes, those," Cadelf chuckled, shaking his head, his cowl shifting slightly with the movement. "What you're thinking of, Lord Rahl, is the ninth rule, which states:  _A contradiction cannot exist in reality. Not in part, nor in whole_."

"But the Darah tongue…? You used a contradiction to explain it," Richard interject, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"And there's the rub, isn't it," Cadelf gave him a look. "The Darah language predates the Wizard's Rules, and the wizards who wrote them. Some say it even predates the Primus, the First Ones."

"And your point being?" Richard asked, completely confused. He had no idea what Cadelf was trying to say, and frankly, he was getting tired of all the riddles. He had enough of them from Zedd and Nathan.

"My point is that not everything is completely as it seems, Lord Rahl," Cadelf answered in a slow and deliberate tone. "There are things in this world that are solid and there are other things that are more… malleable."

 _Again with the riddles!_  Richard sighed and just bobbed his head like he understood what the man was saying. He really did not want to get bogged down in a conversation in which he had no clue what was being said.

They continued in a companionable silence for the rest of the day, and by the next day, just before they decided to set up camp, Richard noticed a haze of smoke on the horizon. He frowned, recognizing it as the grim signal that they were approaching what remained of Aydindril. Part of him had been dreading this, seeing what his wife's city had become. He knew that if she ever saw it, it would break her heart.

In the morning, Cara returned, looking ashen and fatigued. For a long moment, Richard simply watched her, concern and worry building up inside him. Eventually, he slowly pushed up from his bedroll and approached her. She was cuddled against a fallen trunk, her arms wrapped around her knees. What really got to him was that shaken look in her eyes. He had never seen her like this, so visibly unsettled.

Her eyes darted up to him as he approached, and what he saw nearly had him stopping in shock. Her eyes were watery, a telling sign to her state of mind.

With a sigh, Richard situated himself alongside his Mord'Sith. He could feel her body trembling, and he gently placed his arm around her shoulder, trying to give her any comfort he could. He was surprised when she leaned into his side, accepting his comfort, and released a meek sob.

"They're gone," Cara barely whispered when she finally spoke. "They're  _all_  gone."

"Cara," Richard's throat clenched up as his heart filled with sympathy for his friend. He knew what it was like to lose people… somehow he knew. Kahlan had told him that his adoptive father had been murdered, and he thought that that might be what he felt, why he felt like he knew and understood what it was that Cara felt.

Soon, Cara's rattled nerves broke and she openly sobbed, letting the grief flew out. It was a disturbing sight to see. Looking up, Richard spotted Brother Cadelf sitting by the fire, tending to it. Even the old man seemed to be disconcerted by what he was seeing. After all, it was not everyday that one saw a Mord'Sith succumb to emotions.

It took a while, but when Cara regained control, her brow was set low and her jaw clenched. "Those bastards will pay for what they did," she hissed out in a low and menacing voice. And Richard didn't even ask what they did, not wanting to know, but knowing it must have been terrible… really terrible, if it had caused such an emotional outburst from his Mord'Sith friend.

They finally broke camp at mid-afternoon, crossing the final distance between them and the smoky ruins of Aydindril.

XXX

Cara kicked a smoldering plank of wood out of their way.

"Nothing!" she shouted in rage. "They left nothing left. Those bastards… those greedy sons of whores." She turned on Richard, her eyes flashing with undiluted hatred. "When you restore magic, you have got to let me at one of them." She paused, taking a long hissing breath. " _Alone_."

Her intended purpose was all too clear to Richard. It was obvious by her posture. Her back was rigid and her manner seething. Richard cast a cautious glance in her direction before turning to look at the destruction before him. Aydindril was no more. He could remember the city as it was… shining, bright, full of hope… and now… now it was nothing… blacken and charred by countless fires. Numerous buildings laid in crumbling heaps. Nothing was left, just as Cara had said. Nothing.

The dome of the once proud Confessor's Palace lay shattered in the rubble, the gleaming marble tarnished and dull, smeared with the ash from the fires.

Brother Cadelf paused for a moment, looking around, his cowl down and his face a stone mask. As Richard surveyed the ruins, he took in the elder man and could not help but wonder at what it was that the monk was thinking. He studied the man's face and could see the formation of tears in his eyes. And then the mask broke, and Cadelf's face was filled with a deep sorrow and pain. Richard looked away at that moment, deciding that it would be kinder to leave the man alone to his grief.

"This way," the Prior called out, his voice low and gravelly, still heavy with the anguish over seeing what had become of what was once considered the most beautiful city in the Midlands.

Richard and Cara exchanged a quick look before following the man and his garron. As he walked, the Seeker absently, without really thinking, moved one of his hands to his side. It came to rest on the hilt of his sword, and the moment his skin made contact with the cold steel, he let out a sharp hiss… a gasp of pain.

"Richard?" it was Cara, her voice and eyes filled with concern.

"I'm okay," Richard replied, stopping for a moment to hold up his hand. He examined it and noticed a small cut. Knitting his eyebrows together, confused, he was momentarily overwhelmed with a sense of wrongness to the whole world… to existence, at least to how it presently was. He shook his head, letting go of the feeling.  _Of course the world feels wrong_ , he told himself.  _The Chimes are running wild, and the Imperial Order is destroying anything in sight_.

"Come, this way," Cadelf hollered.

Setting his jaw, and forgetting the sting in his hand, Richard ran at a quicker pace until he had caught up with the older man. Cadelf had been weaving through the debris and jutting timber beams of what appeared to have once been an annex building to one of Adyindril's many public libraries.

"What is it?" Cara questioned, her hands on her hips as she glared at the monk.

"The passageway," Cadelf replied, looking up at them with a grim expression. "It was here, in this very building. Hidden, of course, but here."

Richard looked around, examining the ribcage of the once grand library. The stone foundations were blacken and burnt, and nothing remained of the collection of books that had once been stored there. Slowly, they each made their way around the rubble, searching for something out of the ordinary. Richard really did not know what they were looking for. Brother Cadelf seemed convinced that a passageway was hidden there, but he was not sure. It didn't make sense.

Sighing, his eyes tired and his body exhausted, Richard slumped against the cracked stone wall. Like the rest of the place, it was charred and blacken, with ash and dirt crusted within the grooves between the stone blocks. As he lowered his head, resting his chin on his chest, something blinds him. He blinked and shifted his head again, and the flash of light, once more, hit him in the eyes.

Frowning, Richard adjusted his position against the wall until he was standing at a different angle than before. He tilted his head again, this time catching the flash of light as he did so. Frowning, he narrowed his eyes in thought. Something was catching the light from the downing sun.

Moving forward, Richard crouched down and brought his hands up to move away some of the debris blocking his view. That's when he saw it. Jerking his head, Richard glanced up towards the others.

"Over here!"

Cara and Cadelf came immediately.

As they brushed away the debris, what was hidden beneath slowly came into view. It was an emblem, a symbol of some sorts that he did not recognize. Richard moved out of the way as Cadelf came over, bringing a book that he pulled out of his satchel, to compare the symbol he was now seeing with those represented in the book.

"Well, what is it?" Cara's tone was clipped and harsh, but Cadelf ignored her question as he bent down to examine the symbol carved into what was once the stone floor of the library annex.

Richard stood besides Cara as they wait. He could feel the frustration radiating off of her. Needing her calm, he slowly placed a hand on her arm to soothe her. The Mord'Sith's head abruptly turned, her eyes locking with his. There was a biting retort waiting on her lips, but she kept quiet and merely returned his gaze. Gradually the tension in her shoulders waned and Richard could see her relax.

Cara averted her eyes for a moment before looking back at him, and then in a small voice, she spoke. "Thank you."

Richard merely inclined his head. That was the only thing that was required between them.

"By the Creator, how foolish of me!" exclaimed Cadelf.

His sudden raised voice managed to startle both Richard and Cara.

"What?" Richard asked the question first.

Cadelf looked up at him with a wry smile. "The passage is not here. It never was. It was just a clue. A marker, if you will, that will lead us to the actual gateway into the Place That Is Hidden."

"Oh, and where's that?" Cara's tone was still clipped, but she managed to keep it sounding less harsh.

Brother Cadelf seemed unfazed. "This symbol here," he gestured down to the engraved emblem on the floor. It was gilded with gold, which was why, when the light hit it just right, it had flashed in Richard's eyes. "It is from the ancient Darah tongue."

"What does it mean?" Richard inquired.

" _Mountain_."

"Mountain?" Cara raised an eyebrow and looked at Richard with an expression that clearly stated she believed the monk had gone off the rocker.

"Yes," Cadelf nodded, looking up and narrowing his eyes as he thought. "It must mean Mount Aydin."

"Why do you say that?"

"Here," Cadelf leaned down and pointed at a small series of characters beneath the larger emblem. "These letters are from the Darah language. If you translate them into High D'Haran they come out as  _The Keep_."

"The Keep?" Cara frowned and rolled her eyes, completely frustrated. "I thought you said we needed to go to Mount Aydin."

"Yes, we do," the old man huffed and let out a grunt as he heaved himself up, using a hand on his knee to do so. He scanned the horizon and then raised his hand, indicating for them to follow his gaze.

Richard shifted, putting his hands around his chest, as he turned his eyes to follow the monks outstretched arm. "The Wizard's Keep," he said, seeing the tall imposing structure in the distance.

"No… look past it," Cadelf said, a slight smile on his pursed lips.

There… behind it stood a tall mountain, clear as day. Richard's eyes widened and he turned to look back at the Prior, completely stunned. "And that's Mount Aydin?"

Cadelf gave a nod, bending down to retrieve his books and satchel. "Legend says that the wizards of old used to hold meetings on the top of the mountain before they built the Wizard's Keep. The idea stuck and Mount Aydin has long been associated with that name…  _The Keep_. Though not many people would know that today, seeing as once Aydindril was founded and built up around the Wizard's Keep, the mountain was then named for the city founder and not the magical fortress it looms over."

Richard raked his fingers through his hair as he absorbed this new information. "Then we need to go to that mountain… as quickly as possible."

XXX

The mountain stood before them. Intimidating and strong. Richard could feel it… could sense it. Somehow… someway, he just knew that this was the place they needed to be. There was a gaping opening in the side of it, a great maw, enticing them inside. Outside it was a river, cutting across the mouth of the cave, almost like a moat. Brother Cadelf's garron was braying softly, sounding distressed and worried. Richard turned and watched as the monk patted the animal's neck reassuringly, trying to calm it down.

As Richard went about looking for supplies that they would need to transverse the dark reaches of the caverns, Cara stood there, her fingers twitching beside the agiels she still wore despite the fact that they were useless at present.

"Can you feel that?" she suddenly spoke up, tense and alert.

"Huh?"

"Something is wrong," Cara elaborated, hooking her head over her shoulder to look at Richard and Cadelf.

Richard stilled and let his mind free, closing his eyes. He had been practicing. Ever since he entered the secret library in the People's Palace, he had begun to suspect that he still had some control over the magic that he was apparently gifted with.

He allowed himself to let go. The world was black… silent. He reached out, allowing his vision to spread. It was then that he felt it. Something that should not be, something that did not belong in the world of the living. His eyes snapped open and he glanced at Cara, her expression affirming the feeling in his gut.

"I can sense it, too," he said.

Suddenly the ground shook and a great roar filled the night air. Cara stumbled and Richard reached out, catching her. They looked at each other, both distressed and close to panic. It amazed him that she had no qualms about letting him see such raw emotion on her face. Cadelf let out a shout, and the garron was snorting and stomping its hooves in distress and terror. It reared up, horrified, and struck Cadelf's side, sending him tumbling down as the world continued to quake around them.

Richard crouched on the ground, using his proximity to it to keep himself steady as he rushed to the monk's side. Cadelf's eyes were wide and filled with unhindered horror.

"Here," Richard shouted and grabbed the man's arm, helping him up.

Cara appeared by their side and grabbed the satchel dangling from Cadelf's shoulder. A book came falling out and the monk scrambled for it.

The night air was once again filled with a horrifying screech.

Richard was baffled and confused. This appeared to be the work of magic, but magic should not be working. Suddenly a great fire erupted along the banks of the river.

"Hurry!" he shouted, grabbing Cadelf's arm. "Forget the book!"

They were harried by the unseen forces. Cara's hair whipped around her face as she ran ahead, diving through the tall wall of flames, her arms wrapping around her body for protection.

"Dear Creator!" Cadelf cried out in horror.

Richard ignored him and slung his arm around the elder man. "We have too!" The monk shook his head. Richard clenched his teeth together. "We'll do it together, okay… don't worry."

Without giving the man a moment to hesitate or think it through, Richard propelled them through the wall of flames. They landed in the middle of the river, sending splashes up into the air.

"Out of the water! NOW!" it was Cara shouting at them, her voice high and distressed. She was waving at them and beckoning them to hurry.

"Cadelf?" Richard made sure that the monk was still with him.

With a nod of his head, Cadelf let him know that he had been unharmed during their mad jump through the wall of flames, which was still raging with a burning passion behind them. Richard gasped, feeling the current around them pick up. Something unworldly going on, and he sensed dark forces at work.

Shoving Cadelf forward, Richard urged him on. He needed to use all his strength to swim across the river. The current was that strong. His arms and legs were aching with the effort, but as soon as he pulled himself out onto the shore, drenched and soaked to the core, and had time enough to manage one quick glance to ensure that Cadelf had made it as well, an insistent Cara was hauling him to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest at the sudden shift in position, but he ignored it, concentrating on the torrent going on around them.

"We need to keep moving!" she shouted as the water from the river began to rise, seemingly on its own accord. Richard recognized the beginnings of a flash flood. "We have no choice now. We have to go into that damn cave."

He bobbed his head in agreement. Richard heaved in a gulp of air and was then rocked, feeling the wind assaulting them. It was then that it dawned on him. They were being attacked by the Chimes.  _Three elements. Three Chimes_. Locking eyes with Cadelf, Richard could see that the learned monk had made the same conclusion.

"Go! Lord Rahl! Run!" Cadelf shouted over the howling din, waving his hand as he struggled to stay with them.

Clutching onto Cara, Richard reached for Cadelf. He was not going to leave him behind. His fingers found purchase on the sleeves of the man's habit, and he tugged, pulling him with them as they tumbled into the gaping mouth of the mountain cave.


	56. Darkness

The guards had come for her late in the evening. The manacles around her wrists were bound tightly and chafed against her skin, rubbing it raw. She was too exhausted to do anything to prevent it, so Nicci just allowed her capturers to lift her up of the cold hard ground. She didn't fight. She didn't have the will nor the strength. Her heart ached from the misery that she was inflicted with. Finally, after all these years, she'd found a man who was truly noble and caring, and it was just out of reach. Both him and her… captives of the insidious Imperial Order.

Sheldon had been completely blown away by her profession of love. To be honest, that hadn't really surprised her. It wasn't like she had gone out of her way to show how she felt. Nicci had always been guarded with her feelings, especially with how, when she had been a naïve novice, those feelings had been used against her. But now, trapped and held prisoner in the vile stink that was the Order, she could not hold back what her heart wanted. She yearned for what Sheldon would give her, she really did. Nicci only wished she had realized this sooner... before it had become too late.

The darkness outside was depressing and ominous. Only the flicker of the campfires surrounding the huddled masses of the soldiers lit the evening sky. Clouds had covered the stars, covering them. It was as if the world was weeping for what was to come. Nicci knew very well where the guards were taking her and for what purpose. Sheldon had seemed more afraid of this than she did.

Nicci had known this was coming, and had already experienced the like many times beforem and many different hands—that prisoner when she was a novice, several wizards at the Palace of the Prophets, and the vile excuse of a man, Darken Rahl. Nicci still shivered at the things that that man did to her, but those would pale in comparison to what the Emperor would do to her. And it just hurt more now, since she knew that there was a man who loved her, yet could not have her in the way she wished to he could.

She had also survived the Namble, and became a Sister of the Dark… only then had she had control over whom she let into her bed. And then she had met Richard Cypher, the Seeker of Truth. He was so unlike any man she had ever met. She could not help but fall for him. It was a strange feeling. At first, she had just intended to use him, but then something changed, and she wanted him… wanted him all for herself, to such an extent that she did terrible things.

Nicci was free of that darkness now, yet now she was about to face a new darkness, one that she was dreading. She could suppress the pain, she knew that, but the emotional effect would be harder this time, especially with General Sheldon in her mind.

"Whatever happens… whatever  _he_  does… know that it does not change how I feel about you, Nicci," Sheldon had whispered to her in the dark of their tent, held apart by chains, bound on other sides, so close yet so far all at once. His words had been soothing, and reassuring… exactly what she had needed to hear. She thanked him, as best she could, pulling her chains taut until she could brush her lips against his. She couldn't kiss him as deeply as she wanted, or do everything else she wanted, but it was enough.

"Ah, finally!"

She snapped out of her ruminations, seeing Sister Bree standing at the entrance to the palatial tent that was reserved for the Emperor. The tall tent pole rose high into the air, a banner flickering in the wind, letting all who were in sight know that this was the tent of the leader of the vast and powerful Imperial Order.

Nicci looked at her former Sister of the Dark, seeing how Bree smiled smugly at her. The petite brunette had long suffered what was to come to Nicci this night, and she knew that Bree must have been looking forward to this.

"Can she walk?" Bree asked the guards, completely ignoring Nicci.

The large man holding her in his arms shrugged.

Bree scowled. "Put her on her feet then and find out, you idiot!"

"Mistress," he bowed his head, and Nicci let out a startled gasped as her balance shifted and she was suddenly upright.

Adjusting to the difference, Nicci suck in a breath and winced when her bare feet touched the ground. She could stand, at least for now. She did not know if she'd be able to walk, let alone stand, once the Emperor was through with her.

Nicci was startled when Sister Bree reached out to help steady her. For a moment, a flash of sympathy manifested on the other woman's face, but it was soon covered up with a frown. Bree curtly dismissed the guards, and then guided Nicci inside, holding the tent flap open for her. Ducking her head, Nicci shuffled in, the chains around her arms and legs rattling as she moved deeper into the movable living chambers of the Emperor of the Imperial Order.

"I have a surprise for you, Nicci," Bree hummed, her voice feigning that of a long and dear friend. "Oh, you are  _so_  going to love it!"

Nicci highly doubted that, but she was in no mood to placate the Sister of the Dark. She covered her face in an unemotional mask of indifference. It was a trick she'd seen confessors use, and she had become quite adept at doing it herself.

The interior of the tent was lit with low flames, flicking from the wicks of tall wax candles held in a multitude of candelabras arrayed throughout the inner sanctum of the Emperor's domain. The large mattress looked heavy and opulent. Nicci pitied the oxen that had to haul it during the day. As her eyes scanned the space, she found that the Emperor was not there.

Bree smiled, demurely, at her as she brought a key out of her red robes, deftly unlocking the manacles around her ankles and wrists. When her hands were free, Nicci rubbed the chafed skin around her ankles, knowing that it really did not matter how much she soothed herself, because very soon she'd be in a living hell.

An abrupt noise startled her, and Nicci spun around, her eyes going wide in horror. "Wa… what? Arwin?"

General Sheldon was just waking up from a severe beating. He was chained to a moveable rack, and had been positioned in a corner, the shadows nearly obscuring him. He blinked, his green eyes flirting around in the dim light until he found her.

"Nicci?"

Suddenly a booming laugh interrupted them. Besides her, Bree smirked devilishly as she stepped aside, allowing the large presence of the Emperor to take her place.

"Welcome, Sister Nicci," the beast of a man snarled, glanced down at her with terrible black eyes. "It has been too long. I remember when you were nothing but a naïve nubile young girl just waiting to be plucked." He laughed again, and Nicci watched as Sheldon fought to control his anger.

The Emperor walked over to the captive general and rose up to his full bulking height. Sheldon did not flinch, staring him straight in those storm-like eyes. The two stayed that way for a while, neither conceding. Finally, the Emperor guffawed and slapped Sheldon on the shoulder, making him buckle slightly at the sheer force. Sheldon gritted his teeth and glared up at the Emperor.

"Though, since your…  _blossoming_ … you have been sullied many times, have you not, Sister Nicci?" the Emperor drawled out, smirking. He glanced back at Sheldon with a stunned expression. "I'm amazed you still find her desirable, after all the men she's bedded. After she's been ripped up inside and used by so many, how can you find pleasure in that?"

Sheldon didn't take the bait. Nicci's heart swelled with pride in the man she had chosen to love. He may not be the Seeker, but he had the same ironclad resolve, and his heart was just as big.

Sighing, the Emperor turned back to her. "The Namble… now that must have been painful, yes?" Nicci held her jaw shut and did not answer him. She didn't even look at him. He snorted. "Sister Bree, here, has described the whole ceremony to me. I'm amazed that such fiercely independent women would submit to such a thing."

She held her tongue.

The Emperor became irritated. "You think that Namble was bad, just wait until I'm finished with you, darlin'," he purred, moving close and grabbing the side of her face with his large hand, forcing her to look at him.

Nicci did not shrink away from his gaze. "You may have my body, but you shall never have _me_!" she retorted, proud of the strength in her voice.

"Ha," the Emperor laughed boisterously, turning to look at Bree, who smirked and nodded. "I don't need  _you_ , darlin'… just your body will be fine." He stepped back, letting his hand fall away. He turned to Bree as he walked over to the bed. "Undress her."

"My lord," Bree inclined her head, and stepped around his monstrous frame. She reached Nicci and began ripping her clothes off. Nicci shivered, and tried to remain proud and firm. She wasn't going to show any weakness.

"Here you go," she heard the booming voice of the Emperor, followed by a scraping sound and then a thud. Blinking, she looked around the petite Sister of the Dark and startled, seeing the chained Sheldon had been moved, the rack now positioned by the foot of the bed. The Emperor placed his large hand on the man's shoulder. "For your viewing pleasure, _General_."

 _No… no… no_ , Nicci shook her head, tears unexpectedly started to flow out of her eyes and run rivers down her cheeks. She could not handle this… not if Sheldon was being forced to watch.

The Emperor grunted in approval and began to remove his wool vest, revealing his brawny sweat slicked chest. He grinned over at her, cruel and twisted. Bree chuckled, low and delighted. Nicci was frozen, petrified by fear. She had been prepared. She had. But now… seeing what had been planned… No. She had not expected this.

Glancing up, her vision slightly blurry, ignoring Sister Bree as she continued to removed the remnants of her clothing, Nicci locked eyes with Sheldon. Her lips moved and she slightly mouthed his name.

His lips moved and she blinked, willing the tears away so that she could read his words:  _No matter what he does… I love you_. Her heart pounded in her chest at his words and she managed to give a weak nod. Arwin Sheldon was a better man than she deserved. She knew that. But this was going to hurt him… not as much as her, but still… they would both suffer from this.

Bree chuckled mercilessly as she gripped Nicci's arms and held her tight as the Emperor finished divesting himself of his clothing. She shuddered and closed her eyes against the terror brewing up in the pit of her stomach. She was bare, with nothing but the silver collar of a Rada'Han around her neck, put there to prevent her from using her subtractive magic—the only magic capable of being wielded right now.

Soon his hands were on her, lifting her up and pulling her to the bed. Nicci fought to keep her cry of anguish from escaping, but she could not. He only laughed at her misery. She felt his large hand cup her core and she squirmed, trying to pull him away, but he held her down, his other hand pushing her down on her chest, his fingers roughly kneading into her flesh.

"That's it… Sister Nicci… scream for me," he purred in a sickening vile whisper.

The Emperor had been right. Out of all the possible scenarios in which she could endure this… this was not one of them. Her brave front had collapsed the moment she was on the bed, beneath this hulking brute, as he prepared to take her in any number of vile ways. If only they'd been killed during the siege of Aydindril. Then both of them, her and Sheldon, would be spared this nightmare.

XXX

"Here, hold it there… yes… like that… okay… hold it still."

_Click. Click. Click._

Sparks illuminated the darkness for a moment with each strike of the rock. The motion continued for several minutes until the sparks finally caught purpose and the cloth wrapped around the end of the sturdy branch ignited.

"There… we have light," Brother Cadelf let out a breath and leaned back against the wall, his checks a decided dark shade of pink. He was flushed, having spent longer than he had deemed necessary to strike the stones together and ignite a single torch.

He watched as his companions, the Lord Rahl and a Mord'Sith named Cara, took the now lit torch and ignited the other two they had hastily constructed in the dark.

The Lord Rahl—or Richard, as he preferred to be called—held his torch aloft and walked around the cavern they now found themselves in, trapped when the wall behind them collapsed. He looked back, his brow set in a determined fashion. Cara planted her torch in the soft ground and was rummaging through her pack, checking on supplies.

"Cadelf?"

The Prior looked up, seeing Richard looking at him expectantly. "Yes, Lord Rahl?"

"Richard," he sighed. "Call me Richard."

Cadelf nodded. "Sorry, Richard… did you ask a question?"

"Obviously," Cara grunted, looking irritable. "The Lord Rahl asked if we were under Mount Aydin."

"Oh," Cadelf frowned at the disapproving Mord'Sith and shuffled to his feet. "Yes. The cave opening we jumped into was one that led to the catacombs beneath Mount Adyin. They say that the Wizard Morten is buried somewhere within these tunnels."

" _Fascinating_ ," Cara bit out in a snort, rolling her eyes.

"Cara... play nice," Richard admonished from the other side of the cavern. He held his torch up and the light revealed several openings in the rocky wall, each leading in a different direction. "Which way do we go to get to The Place That Is Hidden?"

Cadelf searched for his satchel, but couldn't find it.

"Here," the Mord'Sith held up his bag, and he took it from her with a grateful nod.

Turning around, using the extra torch to provide light, Cadelf opened his still wet satchel and scrounged through it, looking for the book he needed to navigate the labyrinth of tunnels and catacombs that snaked out around the interior of the mountain. He prayed to the good spirits that it had not been the book he had been forced to abandon when the Chimes of Death had unexpectedly attacked them. He could still not fathom why they would risk attacking the  _Fuer Grissa ost Drauka_.

"Got anything, monk?" Cara clicked her tongue, impatiently.

"I'm still looking, madam," Cadelf grinned, knowing that such a moniker would irritate the Mord'Sith. He was rewarded with a grumble and a few hushed curses.

More light illuminated his search as the Lord Rahl joined him by his side. Richard looked down and narrowed his eyes. "I hope the water didn't damage your books, Brother Cadelf," he said, genuinely concerned.

"As do I, Richard," Cadelf nodded, then smiled. "Ah, here it is!"

He reached inside his satchel and retrieved the old tome. It was the book left in that hidden niche back in the People's Palace, tucked away in that private library that they had only been able to get into because Richard was the Lord Rahl… and true heir to Alric Rahl. Carefully opening it, mindful of the damage that could have been done to it, Cadelf examined the contents.

"It looks relatively unscathed," he commented.

"Are the pages still legible?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow as he too looked upon the faded handwriting on the yellowed pages.

"Yes, they are… I think that perhaps Alric Rahl might have cast a particularly powerful spell, with the deep old magic, that even the Chimes could not touch."

Richard sighed. "That is good to know. I wouldn't want my inheritance ruined."

Cara chuckled.

"Now, does he tell us how to navigate the catacombs?" Richard questioned, ignoring the Mord'Sith.

Cadelf examined the chicken scratch markings, the handwriting of the first Lord Rahl—Alric Rahl. The man was obviously highly intelligent and versatile in many languages. This book had been written in a mismatch of High D'Haran and the far older Darah tongue. Fortunately, Cadelf had studied both languages and was able to decipher Alric Rahl's words.

Looking up, Cadelf examined the seven openings, each leading up in different directions. "More light, if you please?" he asked.

Richard and Cara moved forward, holding up their torches to illuminate the walls. Cadelf stepped closer, his satchel bag slung over his shoulder and Rahl's guide book in his right hand, while he, himself, held up his own torch in his left hand. He narrowed his eyes and looked up at the walls, examining the very top curves of the tunnel openings.

"What are you looking for?" Cara asked, glancing over, serious.

"Look for a carving, similar to the letter Z, but with a swirl at the end and a line cutting vertically down the middle," Cadelf told his two companions.

"This one!" Richard called out, holding his torch up near the rim of the opening about two down to the left.

Cadelf stepped over and compared the worn carving, which was barely visible, to the one in the book. "Yes, that's it," he half grinned and glanced up at Richard. "Keen eyes, you have, Lord Rahl."

"Then… what?" Cara asked, narrowing her eyes and gazing through the opening. "We… go this way?"

"Yes," Cadelf nodded, lifting his pack to replace the book, securing it. "This way. They'll be some more turns along the way. And I'd recommend we stop at each and read these instructions again… there will be puzzles and tricks. It may take us some time."

"Cara, do we have enough food?" Richard inquired, turning to the Mord'Sith.

"Enough for maybe three or four days… five at the max," Cara replied.

Cadelf watched as Richard inclined his head and pursed his lips in thought. Five days might be pushing it, but the Prior knew that they had to go. He felt sure that the Lord Rahl knew this as well. He was, after all, the Decider of Fate, at least that was what prophecy had declared him to be. Though he may be the Seeker of Truth and the Lord Rahl, Richard had many names in prophecy, and Cadelf was one of the few non-wizards to have read some of them. Not all, but some.

"We go," Richard decided.

Cara heaved in a deep breath, seemingly reluctant, but nodded. Cadelf smirked as they began to march down the crammed tunnel. "What's the matter, madam… afraid of the dark?" he inquired with a snicker. The Lord Rahl chuckled softly when the only response the monk got out of the Mord'Sith was a low growl.

XXX

Sister Bree watched for twenty minutes as the Emperor did wicked and vile things to Sister Nicci. She felt she deserved it; after all Bree had suffered, to see her archrival for their eternal father's affections humiliated and disgraced so thoroughly before the man she loved was invigorating. Bree smiled, feeling free for the first time, as the former Sister of the Dark broke, crying and screaming in both pain and despair, as the Emperor turned her into a sullied spent whore. It was a beautiful sight to behold, but Bree could only manage so much.

Ducking out of the tent, turning a deaf hear to the sobs and cries of the Aydindril general, whom she felt no animosity towards. He just happened to pick the wrong side— _and the wrong woman to fall for_ —Bree walked out into the cold night air of the Azrith Plains. As she hugged her arms around her small frame, shivering in the chill, trying hard not to think to hard on what was going on inside the tent, she caught sight of General Jor Vicck.

The man was impressive; she'd give him that. Tall and powerfully built, wrapped in his heavy fur cloak and that dark brown leather jerkin covering his muscular chest. Shaking her head, Bree reminded herself that he was not to be trusted. To her, he was the enemy, even if he happened to be both intelligent and handsome. Odd, how she never noticed this before now. Bree figured it had to do with her overwhelming hatred for what the man represented. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous by the amount of time that Nicci would be spending with the Emperor. No. No. She wasn't. Didn't matter that for the better part of a year, she'd been the one where Nicci is now.

Shaking her head of such foolish notions, Bree darted after the swift walking general. There was something that had bothered her about the last time she had seen the man, and she wanted to clarify some things.

"General Vicck!" she called out his name, her tone authoritarian… rather brazen of her, really.

The man halted in his tracks and turned, a scowl plastered on his face as he saw whom it was who had called him. "What do you want, witch?" he snarled.

Bree smiled, demurely, and sauntered up to him, making sure to use all her assets to nettle at him. He was unfazed. She frowned, disappointed. She had once thought of herself as very alluring. Perhaps a year in the bed of the Emperor had tarnished her, made her less desirable to other men. She shrugged it off and decided to be direct.

"You and Narev, how long have you been so chummy with him?" she asked.

Jor Vicck raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Bold, aren't you?"

"Answer the question," she snapped.

Vicck smirked. "I've known the Brother for longer than the Emperor has been alive."

Bree was surprised at that, but she managed to hide it. Stepping up to the general, she looked up at him. He was a good two-heads taller than she was. Not as tall as the Emperor, but still an imposing man. She tried to stare him down, see if he would tell her anymore. When he was silent, she leaned back and averted her gaze.

"So, the Emperor has finally obeyed  _his_  master's instructions and taken the Sister of the Dark to his bed," it wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. Bree wondered how he knew that. Vicck seemed to be reading her mind this evening, because what he said next answered her question. "It's night, and you're out here and not in there, Sister. It's not hard to infer what is going on."

Bree nodded. "True."

Vicck narrowed his eyes at her and ran his hand over his shaved crown. She noticed that some of his dark hairs were growing back. He was probably heading to the officer's baths to have it shaved.

"Sister Bree, we don't like each other," he spoke bluntly.

"No kidding," she crossed her arms.

"But… I feel like I should warn you, seeing how you are still the Emperor's property," he said. "It only seems right. The Creator would want you to be warned."

 _As if_ , Bree thought, rolling her eyes.  _That bitch doesn't care what happens to me. If She did, the Emperor would never have touched me… and I wouldn't suddenly be yearning for those few gentle caress he gave me on rare occasions._  She shuddered, suddenly frowning and pondering over what had come over her. Had she been broken by that beast, and succumbed to the need to be his plaything?

"Tes'vorgo is fast approaching, Sister Bree," Jor Vicck's words startled her out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"Tes'vorgo," Vicck repeated, his voice softer… too soft for her own liking. It was like he was showing pity for her.

Bree scoffed. "Tes'vorgo? Ha… I highly doubt that," she asserted.

Vicck raised an eyebrow. "Just look at the signs, Sister," he replied. "Look at  _all_  of them… not just those before you. And when you do… then you'll see. Tes'vorgo is near." Vicck paused, a tight smile on his lips. "Good evening, Mistress." He bowed his head and then turned away, continuing his brisk march across the camp.

Bree stood there in stunned disbelief. Was it possible? Was Tes'vorgo coming? She shook her head. No. It could not be. The signs were not right. It was not time. Her eternal father, the Keeper, still had work to be done. No. Jor Vicck was wrong. Tes'vorgo was not coming. And if Vicck believed otherwise, well… he was just a fool.


	57. Vanguard

The afternoon sunlight shone down on the People's Palace, providing a little more warmth for those seeking refuge inside the city walls. Kahlan had sent most of the palace guards out to assist, only Egan and Ulic, plus a handful of others, remained behind to guard the Lady Rahl. Rikka had sent most of the Mord'Sith, but kept herself and Berdine close by within the palace. Kahlan had no complaints to that. She felt safer having people she knew around her, even if she felt like they were being overprotective.

Slowly the people of D'Hara were being herded inside the walls of the People's Palace, hopefully where they could find safety and shelter from the oncoming storm that was the Imperial Order. Kahlan knew that there was going to be a siege. A very long siege. She could only hope that whatever it was that Richard had to do, it could be done quickly, so that he may then return to her. Once the Chimes were sent back to the netherworld from whence they came, and magic was restored, the people of the New World—both Midlands and D'Hara alike—would have more hope at defending themselves.

At least that is what Kahlan hoped.

A slight breeze blew across the balcony on which the Mother Confessor stood, overseeing the frantic rush below. She shivered, feeling the chill in the air, but that was not the only cause for her shiver. Flicking her eyes up to the horizon, Kahlan squinted. The dust cloud that announced the location of the Imperial Order appeared much closer than it had the last time she had checked. Her chest clenched and instinctively she placed a protective hand on her large swollen belly.

"Zedd!" she called out.

The curtains draping the doorway parted and the wizard quickly appeared. The war council behind had paused, all heads turned towards the balcony where the Lady Rahl stood. Kahlan turned to Zedd, her husband's grandfather… and to her a grandfather-figure as well. They had spent so long together, from the beginning of their quest to stop Darken Rahl to the tear in the veil, and then all the horrors and struggles that followed. Zedd was family, in more than that he happened to be related to her husband.

"Kahlan?" came the old wizard's worried voice. He noticed her expression and the placement of her hand on her belly. Immediately Zedd reached out with his large wrinkly hand and placed it on top of hers. "Is something wrong with the baby?"

Kahlan swallowed hard and shook her head. "No… not that. There…," with her free hand she pointed out over the balcony, "on the horizon. Do you see it?"

Zedd jerked his head up, his long unruly silver hair shifting in the breeze as his hazel eyes glanced out at the horizon. A gasped left his lips as he caught sight of the ominous cloud of dust.

"Dear spirits!"

The wind shifted, and then they could hear it, carried on the gentle breeze, the sound of marching and the low beating of drums.

"General Meiffert!" Zedd called.

The curtains parted again, and this time General Meiffert and Nathan came rushing out, followed by a group of anxious looking lieutenants. Everyone stood at the stone railing and looked off in the distance. The wind picked up again and Kahlan felt a chill run down her spine as she heard the deep howl of a battle horn, followed not long after by what sounded like low grunted chants that matched the stomping of the march.

"The Order is far closer than we had believed," Nathan said.

Meiffert gave a curt nod. "Looks like the vanguard will be here far sooner than we had estimated." Kahlan noted the hint of panic in his voice.

"The people!" she blurted out, pointing down to the mulling mass of refugees waiting their turn to pass through the city gates and to the safety they'd find behind its walls.

A grim expression cast over Meiffert's face as he gazed down, taking in her statement and the implications. Slowly, his face turned hard with determination. "Lieutenant Ryger!"

"Sir!" a blond haired soldier stepped forward.

Meiffert cast a glance over at Nathan and Zedd. The two older men wore solemn expressions, but both gave a nod. Meiffert let out a quick sigh before turning back to Ryger.

"Two hundred of the best horseback fighters," he said. "Have them assembled in the barracks courtyard in thirty minutes."

"Sir," Ryger saluted and darted off, followed by two other subordinates.

"General?" Kahlan asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Meiffert turned back to her with a grim expression. "At the pace their going," he gestured out towards the dust cloud signaling the approaching horde, "they'll get here before all the refugees have made it safely behind the city walls."

Kahlan nodded. She knew that already. Then it struck her. "General… no," she shook her head, her voice cracking. She could not help but imagine what it would be like if Richard here. She knew he'd do the same thing that General Benjamin Meiffert, her friend Cara's lover, was about to do.

"We must… for D'Hara… for the people's safety," Meiffert answered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He turned away from her, his jaw clenched tight. "Wizard Zorander…?"

Zedd placed a hand on Meiffert's shoulder, his eyebrows set with a sympathetic curve. "She'll understand, my boy," he said.

Meiffert swallowed hard and gave a nod, fighting off his emotion. "If I don't return… tell her… tell her that I love her."

"She knows," Zedd assured him. "But you can tell her again. You  _will_  tell her again."

Meiffert made a show of nodding, though Kahlan believed he looked unconvinced. He seemed ready to meet his fate, whatever that might be. The man straightened his back and looked up at Kahlan.

"Whatever my fate shall be today," he said, his voice strong and calm, more so than Kahlan's would be under the present circumstance, "it has been an honor, Mother Confessor."

He knelt before her, and bowed his head. Kahlan had seen this gestured given to her many times as the Mother Confessor, but it had never affected her like it had now. And now, to see it done by D'Haran, who have never done such a thing, was overwhelming. Her throat tensed up and she felt tears threatened. Zedd was by her side in a flash, ready to assist her if she required it. She breathed slowly, and stepped forward, swaying really with the weight she was carrying, but that could not be helped. She stood before the kneeling General and placed her hand on top of his golden head of hair.

"Arise, General Meiffert," she spoke, using all her training to keep her voice calm and smooth, giving it all the authority she had as the Mother Confessor and the Lady Rahl of D'Hara. "Go with the blessings of all the free people of this world… and my personal gratitude."

Kahlan stepped back, taking her hand way. Meiffert lifted his head and stood up, standing tall and confident. His eyes glistened, the tears barely withheld. She watched as he swallowed hard and gave a single nod. "With thanks, Mother Confessor," he bowed his head one last time, and then straightened, holding his head high. He turned on his heel and signaled to the remaining lieutenants and commanders on the balcony, and marched off, his crimson cape whipping in the wind behind him.

Closing her eyes, willing the tears away at the sacrifice that was about to be made, Kahlan turned away, allowing Zedd to place a comforting arm around her shoulder. She leaned against him and cried softly.

XXX

Richard let out a groan as he turned the corner and found a dead end. Cara gave an equally disgruntled sigh and shake of her head before leaning against the rocky wall of the tunnel. Brother Cadelf frowned and looked down at the small book in his hand, while with the other he tried to bring the torch closer without risking fire damage to the ancient tome.

"We're lost, aren't we?" Cara huffed out, glancing over at Richard with a worried expression before turning back to the monk.

"No… not lost," the old man tried to assure them. "I think we might have taken a wrong turn, that's all."

"Uh-huh?" Cara sounded doubtful.

Richard raked his fingers through his hair and shot her a look. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, but remained silent. Sighing, he turned his attention back to Cadelf. He took a step forward and glanced over the man's shoulder, taking a look at the instructions that monk had been reading to guide them through the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Mount Aydin.

"What's that word there?" Richard reached over and pointed to a word that was half smudged away.

"My word," hooted Cadelf. "I didn't notice that. Good eye, Lord Rahl. Let me see," he squinted, trying to read what had been smudged away. "Ah… I see the mistake we made."

" _We_?" grunted Cara with a snort.

"Cara…," Richard admonished.

Cadelf shrugged. "It's all right, Lord Rahl. I should have been paying more attention."

"So what does this say, then?"

"Well, it appears we took a left when we should have taken a right," Cadelf explained as Cara groaned and shook her head.

"Okay," Richard nodded. "Then let's backtrack and make the proper turn."

He stepped around Cadelf and held up his torch, illuminating the rocky tunnel that they had previously traversed. The other two quickly moved to follow him, and soon they were all marching in silence, the orange flames of the torches the only light in the darkness.

Richard sighed and took a moment to reflect their progress. They'd be going at this for almost a day, at least he thought so. He could not be entirely sure without having any indications from the sky above. It amazed him how well they had all adapted to life inside the dark tunnel with no source of natural light. The air was growing stuffy and stale, and Richard hoped that there were shafts that led up to the surface to provide them with more air.

Most of the intersections they'd encountered had all had puzzles to decipher, but with the instructions in the book Alric Rahl had left behind, it hadn't been that difficult for them to make their way. Except for this last turn. But Richard did not blame it on Cadelf. The book was old, so there were bound to be a few mistakes that would be made. At least this turn hadn't set them back too much. By his estimate, they had only been walking for thirty minutes before they encountered the dead end.

"Monk," Cara grunted out, sounding irritated. "How much further is the entrance to Alric's hidden sanctuary?"

"According to the instructions, it appears we're not that far off," Cadelf replied. "With the intervals between intersections, I'd say maybe a day or two at the most."

Cara made some grumbled curses. Richard smiled. Perhaps not all of them had adapted to being cooped up inside the tunnels.

XXX

When the riders rode out, Kahlan went inside. She couldn't stand out on the balcony and watch as General Meiffert and a group of the D'Haran cavalry went out to hold back the advance of the Imperial Order army. She knew it was necessary, to give the refugees time to get behind the city walls, but she just couldn't watch it. Most of them would most likely die, and that was something she didn't want to see right now.

There were going to be enough deaths soon enough.

The wind roared outside the People's Palace, and Kahlan grimaced, not knowing if the screaming she heard was that of men or simply the howling of the wind against the hollow places in the palace. She tried her best to distract herself, burying her nose in books and scrolls, like she had when she was a young confessor and studying at the Wizard's Keep. She remembered reading the poem that spoke of those terrible screelings.

Shifting through the books in the small library Rikka had brought her too, Kahlan found the right volume. She opened it up and turned the pages, searching for the poem. She didn't know why she was looking for such a morbid tale; it wasn't really heartwarming or reassuring. It was ghastly, really. Perhaps it was just something familiar, and that was it. Yes. That's what it was. She just needed to see something familiar… something she had known before coming here.

Turning the yellowed flaked pages, Kahlan found it. She read it in her head, applying the same pitches and tones she had when she was a child as she sang the disturbing lyrics in the dead at night. She always had the inclination tempt fate, even as a small child.

_The screelings are loose and the Keeper may win.  
His assassins have come to rip off your skin.  
Golden eyes will see you if you try to run.  
The screelings will get you and laugh like it's fun._

_Walk away slow or they'll tear you apart,  
And laugh all day long as they rip out your heart.  
Golden eyes will see you if you try to stand still.  
The screelings will get you, for the Keeper they kill._

_Hack 'em up, chop 'em up, cut 'em to bits  
Or else they will get you while laughing in fits.  
If the screelings don't get you the Keeper will try.  
To reach out and touch you, your skin he will fry._

_Your mind he will flail, your soul he will take.  
You'll sleep with the dead, for life you'll forsake.  
You'll die with the Keeper till the end of time.  
He hates that you live, your life is the crime._

_The screelings might get you, it says so in text.  
If the screelings don't get you the Keeper is next  
lest he who's born true can fight for life's bond.  
And that one is marked; He's the pebble in the pond._

An eerie silence descended once she had finished reading the song. Blinking, Kahlan glanced around, almost afraid she'd summoned the terrible creature just by reading it. It suddenly hit her that the song also referred to the Seeker of Truth, her Richard. The Decider of Fate who dances with death. He was called so many things in prophecy that it had never ever registered to her that the ending lines of this song were about him, and how he could fight the screelings and defeat the Keeper.

The thick curtains fluttered in the breeze and the flames on the candles faltered for just a bit. Kahlan stilled her breath and grimaced, feeling a sharp pain sprout up in her side. Her hand immediately dropped to the spot. Slowly she rubbed the tender skin, frowning, confused. Perhaps she had pulled a muscle when she had leaned up to grab a certain book. It had been bugging her for the last hour or two.

The sudden silence was broken by the wail of a horn. Kahlan jerked her head up, her own aches and pains forgotten as she remembered why she had hidden herself away in this secluded library.

"Rikka?" she called out.

Her Mord'Sith protector was by her side in a flash. Kahlan firmly believed that she had probably never been that far away to begin with. Rikka held out a hand, and Kahlan accepted it as she hauled herself up from the padded chair she had been sitting in as she read. Cynthia looked up from a couch in the corner. She stood up, letting the book she had been attempting to read fall down, still opened.

Kahlan gave her twin sister a soft smile as she joined them. Cynthia had been with her constantly since the war council had broken for the day and General Meiffert had assembled men in the square and rode out. Her sister didn't know what exactly had happened, but she knew it was upsetting Kahlan.

The forlorn horn sounded again.

"Do you know what is going on?" Kahlan asked Rikka.

"No, Mother Confessor," Rikka replied. "There has been no word sent."

"That horn?" Cynthia inquired, asking the question Kahlan had dared not.

"It is ours, yes," Rikka inclined her head. "Egan, the door?"

The gentle D'Haran giant, one of Kahlan and Richard's longest D'Haran allies, inclined his head and turned towards the door. Egan and Ulic had been steadfast in their loyalty to Richard and Kahlan since the sealing of the tear in the veil. The two had hardly left her side after Richard had left on his quest to stop the Chimes.

The thick oak door groaned, the iron hinges protesting, as Egan pulled it open. Kahlan shuffled out and into the hall. As she passed the threshold, she stopped and gripped her side, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a soft moan leave her throat.

"Kahlan, are you alright?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes… I… I think so," she blinked past the pain. "I… I think I pulled a muscle when I stretched up on my toes to reach a book."

Cynthia frowned, looking somewhat unconvinced. "If it was too much trouble, you should have asked for some help."

"Thanks, but I could manage, Cynthia," Kahlan said, a little too curtly, despite trying to sound calm and not irritated. It annoyed her how people assumed she always needed help with things all because she was with child. She was pregnant, not some infirm old maid.

Cynthia frowned, but they continued in silence, and Kahlan was thankful that her twin did not continue the discussion, though it was plain from her expression that she wanted to. As they neared the central hall, Kahlan could hear the shouts and raised voices of the men and members of the war council.

"Make a path!" someone shouted and Kahlan was almost positive it was Zedd.

Egan and Ulic, walking a head of her, exchanged glances. Apparently they could already see what was going on, which did not surprise her, considering the fact that the two were taller than any man in the room, except for maybe Zedd.

"Step aside for the Lady Rahl!" shouted Rikka.

There was the rustle of steel and armor as the men did as commanded. Soon a path was cleared for the Mother Confessor and her little retinue. Cynthia reached out and grabbed her hand. Kahlan held on and gave her sister's hand an encouraging squeeze. Truth be told, Kahlan needed the comfort as well, so she didn't mind.

They made their way through the sea of soldiers, Rikka leading the march, with Egan and Ulic flanking, widening the path for Kahlan and Cynthia. Kahlan could hear Zedd's voice. They were getting closer. It sounded like he was talking with Nathan. Bursting through the crush, they finally came into sight.

"Oh no!" Rikka cried out first.

Kahlan could see the Mord'Sith visibly pale and sway. Ulic reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. Kahlan gripped Cynthia's hand tighter and they stepped around the mountain that was Egan. When Kahlan finally saw what had caused Rikka's reaction, she understood immediately.

Benjamin Meiffert was lying flat on a stretcher, his helmet missing... blond hair matted and bloody, sticking to head. There was a large gash across his forehead; blood was still trickling down. Nathan was leaning over, wiping at it with a wet cloth, so that he could inspect the wound. Zedd was kneeling down by Meiffert's torso. Ryger and another lieutenant were helping him with removing the breastplate. There was an arrow stuck in the left side, but luckily it appeared not to have penetrated the armor.

"Just cut the straps," Zedd ordered.

Ryger nodded and pulled out a dagger, making quick work of the shoulder straps holding the breastplate to the fallen general. Him and the other lieutenant quickly removed it and Zedd leaned over to inspect Meiffert's chest and abdomen.

From Kahlan's vantage point, she couldn't tell if the general had any wounds, but from what she was hearing from Zedd, she deduced there were some injuries—the severity she could only guess at. Nathan was working on the head wound. Warren, along with two healers appeared and dropped down, opening their kits to assist. Zedd and Warren spoke in hushed voices before they ripped open Meiffert's undershirt. Blood gushed out like a river.

Kahlan stood back with Cynthia and watched as the men worked. Ryger stood up, wiping his sweaty forehead, his hand bloody. He turned and ordered everyone to clear out, to give them some space. Everyone just stood stark still. Ryger shouted the command again, and again no one moved.

The Mother Confessor turned to the two gentle D'Haran giants. "Egan. Ulic."

Her two guards nodded, and began shouting and pushing the milling crowd back, clearing the hall. Rikka had dropped to her knees and Kahlan was stunned to see that it look like the Mord'Sith was crying. Not only that, it sounded like she was whispering prayers to the Creator to keep the general alive.

Everyone in their inner circle knew Benjamin Meiffert as more than just the D'Haran soldier that he was. He had become a good friend and confidant. And not only that, but he was also the man that Cara loved. It was a rare thing, and Kahlan suspected that all the Mord'Sith felt protective of him, because he was a man that loved one of their Sisters of the Agiel, and not because he had been broken and trained to, but because he chose to love Cara.

When the noise had settled down, Kahlan let go of Cynthia's hand and stepped forward. "Lieutenant?"

Ryger looked up, his chest heaving as he came down from the adrenalin of his frantic attempts from when he was assisting the wizards and healers. "Mother Confessor?"

"What happened?"

"By the Creator, they did it," he said. "They held back the vanguard long enough for the civilians to make it behind the city walls."

Kahlan felt part of the tension in her chest ease at that. The refugees were safe behind the gates of the People's Palace. But there was more. She watched as Ryger pursed his lips and glanced away.

"And the men? How many made it back?" she asked, her voice cracking a bit.

Ryger licked his lips and looked away. "Just the General," he answered. "He… he was the only one to make it back."

Kahlan's heart sank. All those young men. She closed her eyes and looked away, feeling ashamed that she had not at least gone out to see them off. She should at least have known their faces. She didn't like that they were just nameless faceless soldiers. Spirits, she hated war.

A deep sharp pain hit her again, and she grimaced, gasping out in a low groan, clutching her side. It felt like something was gnawing at her insides and it was spreading, like a hot flame igniting an inferno. She clenched her eyes shut as hot tears streaked down her face. Kahlan tried to hold back the moan of pain, but it escaped nonetheless.

"Kahlan!" Cynthia cried out.

"Uh… oh… ugh," Kahlan couldn't speak; the pain was becoming more intense. And then she felt something slick and wet slide down her thighs.  _Dear spirits! No! Not now!_

"Zedd!" Cynthia shouted, her voice rising and close to being unhinged with terror.

Kahlan blinked past the pain and watched as the old wizard stood up and rushed over to them. Cynthia and Rikka held her up as her knees seemed to give way.

"Zedd? Wa… what's happening?" Kahlan gasped out, panting as she clutched Cynthia and Rikka's hands tightly. Her head lolled forward and she caught a glimpse of red streaking along the white skirt of her dress. She shook her head.  _No. Not now. Too soon. I only just made it to seven months. I'm barely out of my sixth month. It's too soon._  "Zedd?"

The old wizard's bushy eyebrows formed a flat line and he remained calm. His jaw was set and he glanced over at Egan and Ulic. "I'll need both your help."

"Sir?" Egan inquired.

"Can one of you carry her?" Zedd asked. "We need to get her to a bed."

"Take her to the Garden of Life!" Nathan shouted, looking up from his work on General Meiffert. "It's at the center of the palace, and probably the safest place for her to deliver."

"Wa… what? Deliver!" Kahlan panicked, her head jerking up in terror, tears streaking down her face. "No! No! It… it's too soon!"

"Egan," Zedd ordered.

The big D'Haran nodded and stepped forward. Rikka moved aside and Egan swept Kahlan up into his strong arms. She let out a scream and her hands flew to her swollen belly. Somewhere in her hearing, she thought she could make out the sounds of twisted laughter, like those she had heard all those long months ago when the Chimes had been released… when  _she_  had released them.

Dear spirits, this was their doing, their punishment. Kahlan had thought they wouldn't harm her, because in some twisted way the Chimes saw her as their mother. But she had thought the same had been true of Richard, who was like their father. They had harmed him, stole his memories. So it was only logical that they would then eventually turn on her.

Her chest heaved as she silently cursed those damnable Chimes. She tensed, feeling what could only be a contraction. "No… no… no!" she kept shaking her head.

"Cynthia, Rikka… find Verna, and fetched cloths, hot warm, and blankets," Zedd said. "Meet us in the Garden of Life."

"Yes, Zedd," Cynthia nodded. "Kahlan, hang in there!" Her sister clutched her hand and gave her reassuring squeeze before turning and dashing off with Rikka.

"Zedd?" Kahlan cried, overwhelmed and horrified.

"It'll be okay, dear one," Zedd assured, brushing his large wrinkly hand over her forehead. "We're all here, we'll help you through this." He stepped back and looked up at Egan. "Let's go."

And then she was being carried out of the room, lost in a daze of panic and terror… and pain. So much pain... agonizing, splitting her apart at the seams. As the lights changed and the surroundings blurred by, Kahlan fought to retain consciousness. It was hard. She just wanted to black out from the pain.

_Oh, Richard… I need you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Song of the Screeling" is from Terry Goodkind's STONE OF TEARS.


	58. Ruler of Fate

They stood before the rock wall, unsure and uncertain. At least, two of them. Brother Cadelf was hovering nearby, the book—the one Richard had found hidden in the secret library at the People's Palace—opened in his hands as he searched for the instructions. Cara stood beside him, holding up her torch to give him some light. Richard had snuffed his out a while ago, and was just leaning against the opposite side of the small cavern trying to get some rest.

It had taken them many wrong turns and retracing of their tracks until they had finally got here. They had climbed up some stairs, carved into the rocks to get to this point. It had been the man-made staircase that had convinced Richard they were actually going in the right direction. After one or two turns, the stairway path had led them to this cavern, where they were met with a seemingly dead end. That is, until they saw the wall and the carvings etched into the hard rock surface.

"This must be the doorway," Cadelf had exclaimed, a hint of excitement in his voice. "The entrance to the place that is hidden."

Cara had looked long at Richard once Cadelf had declared that, and in a soft voice she murmured, "Where you took Kahlan on your honeymoon."

Richard wished he could remember. He wanted to, so badly, that it ached and hurt in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to remember everything about the woman he loved and the time he had shared with her in this place. But try as he might, he could not. All that came to mind was that he had been here, with her, but he couldn't fully recall all that they had done. He knew they had made love. That much was obvious, since the evidence was plain for everyone to see, what with the growth of her belly.

He sighed. She was carrying his child, and he was not with her. He had a gnawing feeling that she needed him, needed him desperately. Yet he couldn't be with her, not now, even if he wanted to. Duty. Duty to the people and the world as a whole, called him away from the woman he loved. He had to save the world. If there was no world, there would be no future for those he loved and the child growing within his beloved Kahlan. So, he had to do this. Had to be separated from her in order to save the world.

The runes on the wall were ancient and obscure. Richard was able to read some of it, but not all. According to Cadelf, some of it was written in an odd mishmash of High D'Haran and Darah, the ancient tongue.

Richard had been worried, for a while, that the Chimes would follow them into the caves. He had spoken with Cara about it, and she had been concerned as well. They both expected to be attacked again, but knew not what to do in defense of any ambush that might occur. There was really nothing known to man that could defeat such beings.

The Chimes of Death, as were their full names, had been created by dark and powerful magic, three thousand years ago in a war that had never really ended. It had only stalled, the last remnants of the enemy forming into the deadly and oppressive Imperial Order. The war was not over. It had never been over.

What had the wizards of old thought, when they had created the Chimes? Were they fully aware of the implications and ramifications of their actions? Or were they so focused on the enemy of the day that they had not thought of the future and what might result from what they had done? Questions like those plagued Richard, and gave him doubts as to any ability he might have in ridding the world of the stain left by that war so long ago.

Yet prophecy spoke of him, or so the others said. Zedd, Nathan, Verna, Warren, and even Kahlan, bless her, said he was someone special, someone destined to do great things. Books had been written about him, long ago, by prophets long since dead. Even his distant ancestor, the founder of his family, Alric Rahl, had written to him. Written him the book that would lead him to this place—the hidden place, where the knowledge of how to defeat the Chimes and restore the world of magic supposedly resided.

"Ah! I've got it!" Brother Cadelf exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Cara shifted awkwardly, looking concerned that the old man would suddenly spring up and hug her. Her nervous eyes flicked over to Richard, who was still hiding in the corner, allowing the cloak of darkness to conceal him, blanketing him in its protective veil. Seeing that he wasn't going to stir, Cara narrowed her eyes and turned her attention back to the monk.

"What?" she asked, her voice calm and flat, belying any emotion she might be feeling.

"You see this rune here," the elder man stretched out with a wrinkly hand and ran his fingers along the rune in question. Cara nodded slightly. "Well, it matches one here in Alric Rahl's guidebook. And look at this…" Cadelf pointed to another rune. "This one here… it follows the line, connecting it to the previous rune."

"And?" Cara had clearly grown exacerbated.

"It spells out a word," Cadelf says. "If you read it correctly, it spells out a word."

"And what word does it spell?" huffed Cara, now very obviously annoyed.

"A family name," Cadelf said, shifting and arching his neck to peer into the darkness, searching out Richard. "Rahl."

At the mention of his surname, Richard moved, pushing off the wall and stepping into the illuminated portion of the cavern. Cara's watchful eyes followed him as he stepped between the two of them and walked up towards the wall. Raising a hand, he slowly ran his fingers, almost reverently, along the embossed lettering.

Stepping back, Richard heaved in a deep breath and widened his gaze to take in the entire wall. It was littered with such runes, and he turned, raising an eyebrow in respect for the old monk, impressed that the man had spotted the pattern.

"I take it the name has special meaning here," Richard said.

"Oh, yes, it does," Cadelf nodded. "It's the only thing that actually makes any sense." The man's pale eyes scanned the entire surface of the wall. "Everything else is just gibberish, really. It makes no sense, like a madman was carving them into the stone. And the way the language was a mishmash of two, it made it even harder to decipher, unless you had a key."

"The book?" Richard inclined his head, eyes dropping to the tome in the monk's hands.

"Yes, Alric Rahl used the exact same letters and characters in here to represent your family name," Cadelf said, turning so that Richard could see. "This is the only place in the book in which the Rahl name is written in such a fashion."

"It has to mean something then."

"That's what I was thinking, yes," Cadelf bobbed his head. He handed the book to Richard. "I think you should read it, Lord Rahl."

Richard knitted his eyebrows together in a frown, but still accepted the book and held it out in front of him. Cara stepped closer, providing him with more light. He squinted and looked down at the yellowed pages. The black ink had faded with time, but everything was still legible. The handwriting was crisp and smooth, and Richard found that he had no trouble deciphering the language it had been written in, which was odd, since he couldn't remember learning to read High D'Haran, but for some reason, he was able to.

As he read through the passage between the large lettering that matched the two on the wall above, Richard was beginning to understand something about Alric Rahl and the method and choices the man had made. It was clear now why the book had been addressed to him, and why he was the only Rahl who could enter the place that was hidden by this secret entrance.

Closing his eyes, and taking a quick breath through his nose, Richard slowly handed the book back to Cadelf. He rubbed his hands together, cautious but sure and confident in his logic. The two others stepped back as Richard moved closer to the wall. He inhaled the smell of dust and dirt, and felt the cold hardness of the wall. Raising his hands, he brushed the dust off the engraved runes that symbolized his family… the Rahls. Spreading his palms wide, covering both raised runes with his hands, he put pressure on the stone.

Stone rubbed against stone, and the raised portions of the runes sunk into the wall.

Cara jumped back, her eyebrows rising in alarm. Several loud clicking noises sounded throughout the cavern, and then the sound of tumblers and wheels working drifted out. The stone between the runes buckled and split in two, revealing a seam. It receded, backing into the wall, and then sliding behind, like a pair of sliding doors. From behind, a hollowed out impression appear, slowly moving forward and stopping after another series of clicks and groans.

Richard started at the new revealed portion.

"This is why it had to be me," he said softly, not really speaking to anyone in particular.

"That… that's the Sword of Truth!" Cara gasped.

"It is," Richard nodded. "In a manner." He dropped his hand to the hilt of the sword, slowly lacing his fingers around the pommel. He pulled the sword free of the scabbard and held the blade up before him for a moment, resting the cold steel against his forehead.

"Richard?" Cara spoke tentatively, hesitant and confused.

"It's me," he spoke, his voice more firm, the resolve coursing through his veins. "It was always me."

Cara glanced over to Brother Cadelf, the monk nodding, his eyes bright. Turning back, she watched as Richard held his palm up along the blade and cut his skin, smearing the cold steel with his red blood. She yelped, more in surprise than anything else, and reached for him, to stop him, but Cadelf stayed her hand and shook his head.

The others watched in silence, as Richard painted the blade with his blood, turning the steel red. When the entire sword gleamed slick and wet with his blood, he turned to face the wall and the impression of the very same bloody sword he held in his hand.

Holding it up, he pressed the sword into the impression, watching as it fit perfectly within the hollowed out rock that had been made for it.

It pressed hard, pushed it until there was a loud, solid click and the sword was locked in place. He stepped back and fisted his hand, putting pressing on the cut he had made on his palm.

The sword began to glow a hot red, the same color as Richard's blood. The glow turned orange and then white until the light was blinding, and the three companions had to raise their hands to shield their eyes.

"What—?" Cara began to ask, but was cut off when a low howl, almost like a horn sounding pierced the air. It was wind, rushing through hidden recesses, making the rumbling noise, followed by several ticks and clicks, tumblers.

The sword receded, disappearing into the wall. For a moment, Richard was worried he had lost his sword, but then he calmed himself, breathing deeply, allowing the air to fell his lungs. He could sense Cara's anxiety beside him, it was radiating off of her in waves. He breathed in through his nose, calming his center, using his strength to give her strength. And it worked. Without even looking over to check, he could already sense her calming.

The walls shook and then withdrew away from them, causing Cara to jump. Even Cadelf, who had obviously suspected this, seemed startled. Richard remained calm and stared ahead into the dark tunnel that opened up before them. Off in the distance, a lone spark of light called to them.

The sword.

"I… I don't understand?" Cara puffed out, baffled. "I thought magic was gone. How… how could—?"

"The ancient magic," Cadelf explained, standing in the background. "So deep and so powerful that even the Chimes cannot fully dissolve it."

"What do we do now?" Cara asked.

Richard blinked and came out of his trance. He turned to her and smirked. "We go retrieve my sword, of course."

XXX

Cynthia stood anxiously outside the doors leading to the Garden of Life. Egan and Ulic, the two gentle D'Haran giants, stood on either side of the large ornate doors, both with steely passive expressions, though their eyes belied the fact that both were concerned. Cynthia wrung her hands nervously, and began to pace back and forth. Her sister, her long-lost twin, was in agony, and there was nothing she could do for her. Nothing. She felt useless and afraid.

Back home, she had helped her father in the fields, with the animals, and had even assisted him in the birthing of a calf or two. But that was livestock, not a person… least of all not her sister, not her own flesh and blood.

A bone-chilling wail came drifting through the crack in the door and Cynthia stilled, shuddering at the sound. She'd never been in the position her sister was in. Sure, she'd become with child during her time as a sex-slave in the camps of the Order, but the brutality of the men—and the 'doctors'—had always resulted in her losing the child within, long before she even began to show. Not that she cared. She knew a child was innocent, but she had never wanted to bare a child to men such as those, especially under those circumstances.

Cynthia knew what the Order did with the children. The boys were taken away, to be raised in the dogmatic view of the Imperial Order, under the tutorage of the Brotherhood. And the girls… either they were killed on birth, or taken away to be raised as slaves, eventually being used for breeding stock when they became of child bearing age.

So no. Cynthia had no idea the pains and agony that her sister was going through. But from the sounds of her wails and screams, it sounded horrendous. It wasn't even the right time. Kahlan should not even be in labor, but against all odds and any sanity, it seemed that she was. Zedd was confident in that. Kahlan's screams drifted out from the Garden of Life again, and Cynthia shut her eyes, willing the others to hurry.

She wondered if she would have been able to do this, to go through the physical discomfort and pain that she was witnessing on the face of her twin. Cynthia wanted to believe that if her beloved Jared had not been taken from her that she would have gladly suffered through labor pains and the agony of childbirth to have a baby with him. Yes. She would have. She would have done whatever she had to so she could have had a child with the man she loved, the man who no longer lived and was awaiting her in the Underworld, for when she died and they were finally reunited.

"Cynthia!"

She blinked at the sound of her name and looked up, almost in a daze, to see the Sister of the Light rushing towards her, accompanied by several Mord'Sith.  _Thank the Spirits they found her_.

"Verna… she…," Cynthia trembled, gulping down deep breaths. "Kahlan… she's gone into early labor."

"I know, Nyda informed me," Verna replied, glancing up at the tall blonde haired woman dressed in tight red leather striding alongside her.

Cynthia nodded slightly, and gestured towards the door. Egan and Ulic immediately moved to pull them open. "Zedd thought it best to bring Kahlan here," she informed the Sister of the Light. "He… he said it was the safest place in the palace."

Nyda inclined her head in agreement, and Verna bobbed her head. "Just take me to her so I can see how far along she is."

"Right, right, of course," Cynthia let out a self-admonishing groan. "This way."

The group followed behind her as she rushed into the Garden of Life.

XXX

"Do you remember any of this?" Cadelf asked cautiously as they surveyed the rooms. They were really more like carved out caverns in the dark rock, but still, it was clear the place had been arranged to mirror that of the private chambers of the Lord Rahl in the People's Palace.

"No, I don't," Richard answered after a pause.

The dark stone halls were lined with torches that lit with their proximity, or more precisely the proximity of Richard. Cara had questioned how they could work, and again Cadelf gave the answer that it was probably triggered by deep ancient magic that the Chimes had yet to target and diminish.

It was all really confusing, even to Richard, but he did not question it. He knew it was true. There was some magic in this world that even the Chimes could not touch. It was like him. He had something within him that would work, some magic spark that continued to burn, even when those who had been trained in the magical arts, like Zedd and Nathan, could not call forth their knowledge.

He gripped the pommel of his sword. They had found it perched in its holder on the wall at the end of the tunnel that had led them into the first sanctuary room. There was also a well, with what looked like silvery water inside. Richard had no idea what it could be. Cara's brow had furrowed as her eyebrows came together in disgust.

"It's the Sliph," she had informed him.

"The what?"

Cara had grimaced, as if remembering a horrible experience. "It… it's a quicksilver being of magic that the wizards of old created to… to help you travel."

"Oh," Richard's interest had been peaked. "Have… have I ever used it?"

"Yes," Cara had nodded, and then turned away, ending the conversation.

Richard had been about to go after her to inquire more, when Cadelf's voice called out for them. He'd found the first room. Cara quickly stepped away to follow the monk. Richard stopped for a moment and went over to the Sword of Truth, prying it out of the ensconced niche that had been created for it. It seemed to hum for a moment, and his arm tingled. The feeling subsided quickly and he placed the sword back in the scabbard before trotting away from the well and heading in the direction Cadelf and Cara had gone.

As the others continued on, searching for the books—in particular the one book they were searching for, the one that, according to Alric Rahl's guide was entitled  _Kai'taug_ —Richard paused in the opening to the bedroom. He stared with longing eyes over at the bed. The bed had been made, but the sheets were still somewhat rumpled, evidence that they had been slept in… and perhaps of more.

Richard stepped across the threshold and into the room. He immediately felt the sense that this room was very special, and that the sight of the bed should bring back warm and happy memories. Even though most of his memories were gone. The important ones, at least the ones surrounding his love for Kahlan, were still there, just some of it was hazy and foggy. So he knew his love for her was genuine and real. Yet, he still wished he had more. He wanted more.

His fingers curled into the fabric of the sheets that covered the mattress. Unbidden tears flickered down his cheeks. Spirits, he wished he remembered that night… correction, those nights. There had been more than one. They must have been rapturous and wonderful. From the way Kahlan had spoke of them, he was positive of that. It was here that they had finally consummated their union, their marriage and love. They had conceived here. This was where Kahlan had become with child.

"Richard?"

It was Cara coming to check on him.

He closed his eyes against the tears and quickly wiped his face, sniffling softly as he pulled back an unwanted sob. Why was he breaking down here and now? It wasn't like he didn't have memories of making love to Kahlan. He had plenty of those. No. It wasn't that. It… it was the significance of what it meant when they'd made love here. It had been their first time as husband and wife. Their first… his train of thought was lost and his brow furrowed as a memory pushed through.

No.

It hadn't been their first time together. She was not a virgin when she became his wife. She… he… the memory came pouring in, flooding his consciousness. The Winds. The Red Moon. The Mud People. The Spirit House. Price. A price had to be paid. Kahlan had to marry his brother… Darken Rahl. And  _he_  had to marry Nicci. He… she… they both had to consummate those marriages. But no… it didn't happen. She had not been with Darken Rahl. And he had not been with Nicci.

It was Cara, along with Nicci, who conspired to switch the rooms. Richard had been sent to Kahlan. He had thought he was being taken to Nicci. But once there, inside the room, even though it was pitch black, with no light, Richard knew he was with Kahlan. He was forbidden to speak, so he couldn't tell her. But then… something had happened, something that made him hollow inside.

The memory pushed harder, rising to the surface.

At first, she had cried, sobbed unyieldingly and without restraint when he pushed up inside her, past her threshold and breaking her final barrier. Her sobs had filled the room, and she continued to cry and writhe in anguish as he began thrusting back and forth, wanting it to be over as soon as possible. It had not been how he had pictured their first time. Richard hadn't been rough with her, though. He tried to be gentle, not wanting to hurt her too much.

But then something happened. The way she began to writhe beneath him changed. And then Kahlan had grabbed his face and kissed him. Kissed him while he was inside her, thinking he was Darken Rahl. Then she moved with him, taking pleasure and enjoying herself, coming undone and screaming in exquisite rapture when she reached release. And before the truth could be revealed, she had begged him in the darkness of the room to not tell Richard.

" _Rahl, please…," she had pleaded. "You must not tell Richard what I have done. Please. Don't tell him. Please, Rahl, Richard must never know that I found pleasure and reached climax."_

_From outside lightning flashed, illuminating the room and revealing his eyes to her. He watched as the horror of what she'd said washed over him. He swallowed and looked at her, feeling all the hurt and betrayal of what she'd just done._

" _Richard already knows."_

The price had been paid. He remembered the doorway to the Underworld ripping open in the hearth, green flames lapping around the edge, calling to him. And he left her, sobbing and pleading for him to forgive her. But he could not. He was too hurt with how she'd thought she had just made loved to Darken Rahl, and had enjoyed it. So he left her there, and went into the Underworld, so that he may go to the Temple of the Winds and find the means to cure the world of the plague that Imperial Order had unleashed on it.

"Richard?"

He blinked, pulling himself out of the memories. More tears had manifested, but at least they remained unshed, welling up in his eyes. Richard blinked again and cast them away. He closed his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. At least it had been him, and not Darken Rahl. He had been Kahlan's first… and her only. At least now he remembered it, being with her for the first time, making love to her. And though there was still the sting of her thinking he was someone else, and her finding pleasure in it, at least it had still been him that had given her that, him that had taken her maidenhood.

"Richard?" A hand came up to rest on his shoulder, accompanying the calling out of his name. He let out a hot breath and turned, seeing Cara. "Are you alright?"

He bit her lip and nodded. "Just… just remembering some things."

"You remember your honeymoon?" Cara asked, sounding hopeful.

"No… not that," he sighed, disappointed. "No. I remember the forced marriage and… and the consummation."

"The Temple of the Winds," Cara muttered. She shook her head and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "It was you. Not him. I made sure of that."

"I know… I remember," Richard replied, turning around to fully face his friend, her hand falling back to her side. "Thank you, Cara. For making sure he did not touch her."

Cara narrowed her eyes, giving him a slight glare. "You're damn right I wouldn't let him touch her. That man was a monster. Nicci took care of him, and made sure he met the Keeper. I say good riddance. Let him rot in the eternal damnation of his own making."

Richard smirked. "I'm glad you're on my side."

"You should be," Cara nodded with a wicked grin. "Come," she jerked her head towards the door. "The old monk thinks he's found something."

Taking one last look around, Richard sighed, still wishing he remembered the happier times, and then he turned, leaving it behind and focusing on what they were here for. The quest. Finding the book  _Kai'taug_  and what it meant, other than  _Ruler of Fate_.

Following Cara through the dark halls, Richard ran his fingers along the cold stone. He needed to have a tactile connection to this place, even if he couldn't remember ever having been here. Cara sidestepped and ducked into another opening. Ensconced lamps and braziers burst into life as soon as he entered, illuminating the whole room. Cara shook her head, narrowing her eyes, forever suspicious of anything dealing with magic.

"Ah, light! Good… I can see much better now," came the cheery tones of the old monk. His cowl was pulled down and he'd removed his cloak, which Richard found tossed across the back of a bronze chair. Walking around in nothing but his habit, the monk was examining a stack of ancient tomes.

"Any luck, Brother Cadelf?" Richard inquired.

Cadelf looked up and gave him a tight smile. "With your help, and  _yours_ , my dear lady," he pointedly said looking straight at the Mord'Sith, "we'll find the book in sort order." He turned his back to them, his aged fingers running along the spines on the shelf before him. "Well, no time to waste. Chop-chop."

"Did he just call  _me_  a lady?" Cara frowned, glancing over at Richard.

He arched an eyebrow and smirked, suppressing a chuckle. "I… I think he did," he replied.

Cara rolled her eyes and scowled, grumbling some curses as she stomped over to the opposite wall to peruse the titles. Richard shook his head, slightly amused, and turned to look over the nearest pile of books. Shuffling through them, he paused and blew the dusk off of one of the leather-bound books. The black lettering started with a 'K', but as he examined the word more closely, he noticed that it wasn't the book they were looking for. So he tossed it aside and continued.

Every single book was old… ancient, really, with yellowed and flaky parchment bound between the leather covers. None of them, at least in his section, were the one they needed. He glanced over his shoulder at Cara, who shook her head, indicating that she hadn't had any luck either.

"Anything?" Richard called out to their other companion.

Cadelf let out a huff and dropped a book back onto the table in the middle of the room, causing a puff of dust to billow up. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face.

"By the Creator, no, nothing," Cadelf scratched his head, pushing some of his silvery curls away from his brow. "I could have sworn it would be here."

Cara began to grumble.

"Wait," Richard's eyebrows shut up as something occurred to him. Spirits, why hadn't he thought of that before? It was so obvious. He slapped his hand to his forehead and his eyes went wide. "Hidden. The book has got to be hidden somewhere."

"Yes, yes," enthused Cadelf, nodding vigorously. "Just like the book in the private library in the People's Palace."

Cara raised an eyebrow. "Hidden… how?"

"A niche, or recess," Cadelf put in. "Look around. Search the walls for anything out of place."

Cara groaned. "Everything's out of place, if you ask me, old monk!"

"Cara," Richard warned, giving her a look.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, raising her hands up in frustration. "I'm a Mord'Sith, not a librarian." To make her point more firmly, Cara lifted a foot and stomped on the ground. Hard. Really hard. There was a cracking noise, followed by a low groan, and what sounded like wood splintering. Suddenly the floor gave way under her and Cara fell, disappearing in a cloud of debris and rubble.

"CARA!" Richard cried out, launching forward and peering over the edge of the newly formed hole.

Cadelf was there too, looking down into the darkness below. "Madam Mord'Sith?" he called out.

A groan came out of the blackness. "Spirits, old monk, how many times have I have to tell you? DON'T CALL ME  _MADAM_!"

Cadelf chuckled, his eyes sparkling. He turned to Richard and bumped his shoulder. "Appears the fall hasn't hurt her sense of humor."

Richard shook his head and turned his gaze back down to the blackness. "Cara? You hurt?"

"No," she called back, huffing and grumbling. "I'm fine. Just… got the wind knock out of me."

"Can you see anything down there, Mistress Cara?" Cadelf shouted out.

"Um… let me think… no! It's pitch black," Cara snapped back, her usual charming self.

Richard suppressed a grin. "Hold on, Cara, I'm coming down," he said, shifting to hitch his legs over the edge. He looked over at Cadelf as the old man handed him a torch. "Stay up here, okay? And see if you can find some rope or something."

The old man nodded. "Will do, Lord Rahl."

Giving the man one last look, Richard took a deep breath, prepared himself and slipped down through the gaping hole. He landed on his feet, the sound echoing through the small chamber. He turned around and held up his torch, finding Cara sitting in a heap of dirt and broken timber. He smirked and held out his hand.

"Need help getting up?"

Cara narrowed her eyes, and gritted her teeth. "No, that's okay. I can manage on my own, thank you very much." She scowled and shifted, giving him a rather unattractive display as she hauled herself up out of the debris. She huffed in annoyance and dusted herself off.

"Not a word," she threatened with a fierce glare.

"I'm not saying anything," Richard assured her with an innocent look, though his eyes betrayed him at how hilarious he thought it all was.

Cara scowled and planted her hands on her hips. "Give me the torch," she snapped and reached out for it, snatching it out of his hand.

Richard shook his head, but let her have it. He followed behind her, squinting in the dim light as they searched along the nearly discovered chamber.

"Hey, look here, there's some writing," the Mord'Sith pointed out, gesturing with the torch towards a niche in the wall.

He stepped over to it and Cara held the torch up, providing more light. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the writing above the recessed niche. It was in that odd mixture of High D'Haran and Darah. He could feel Cara looking over his shoulder, glaring at the text.

"What does it say?" she hissed in his ear.

Richard squinted and knitted his eyebrows together, willing himself to understand the wording. Then it hit him, like a bolt of lightning, the knowledge came flooding into him. "It's my name."

"You're name?"

"Well, not my name  _name_ , but yes, my name, in a manner," Richard answered, tracing the etchings with his fingers. " _Grissa ost Mosst_."

"Oh," Cara frowned. "That's that  _Kai'taug_  thing, right? Another way of calling you  _fuer grissa ost drauka_?"

"Yes," Richard nodded. He put his hand up against the wall within the niche, spreading his fingers wide, placing his palm flush against the cold stone.

He closed his eyes.  _Just like the hidden compartment in the People's Palace_ , he thought. He felt it, the hum of magic lacing through the stone. Just like the magic in the private library, it must be powerful and old, deep magic that had yet to be touched by the Chimes. Taking a deep breath, Richard pushed forward. A warm tingling sensation skipped across the skin on his hand as his fingers slid through the solid stone.

Cara gasped.

Richard pushed forward, his hand completely disappearing. He continued until his entire forearm looked like the wall had sucked it in. He flailed his fingers out and groped around the interior compartment, feeling for a book. As more time passed and his search rendered nothing, Richard began to grow concerned that there was no book. Frowning, he pushed further until he was up to his shoulder.

Stretching out his arm, Richard reached deep into the hidden niche. And that's when he felt it, briefly on the tips of his fingers. He fumbled around some more and stretched out even further and found it, hard leather scraping under his fingertips. He curled his fingers, forcing the book closer until he could grasp it more securely. Gripping it tightly, he pulled back, retrieving his arm and hand.

Richard let out a hot breath and flicked his eyes down to the small book in his hand, the word _Kai'taug_  emblazed in golden lettering across the red leather.

"That's it!" Cara grumbled, sounding deflated and disappointed.

He arched an eyebrow and looked up at her. "You were expecting something different?"

Cara shrugged. "This thing is supposed to be important… I just thought it would be bigger. It hardly looks over a hundred pages."

"Just because its concise doesn't mean it's unworthy," Richard said.

"Well, it better be able to tell us how to defeat the Chimes," Cara scowled. "Because I really don't want to spend any more time in here than I have too."

"Afraid of confined spaces, Cara?"

"Afraid? Ha!" Cara scoffed. "I'm Mord'Sith. Mord'Sith are afraid of nothing."

Richard was about to tease her some more, when Brother Cadelf called out, informing them that he had found a rope. Cara let out a relieved sigh and told him to lower it down so he could pull her up and out. The monk complied, and within moments they were back up in the lighted chamber above, sitting around the table. Cadelf found a three candled candelabra and lit the wicks with the flames from one of the ensconced lamps and brought it over, giving them more light to read by.

"It's smaller than I expected," Cadelf admitted when Richard handed him the book for inspection.

Cara harrumphed. "You're telling me."

Cadelf glanced up at Cara with pursed lips. "Wisdom and brevity oft go hand in hand, my dear Mord'Sith," he said. "Don't discount the significance of this book merely because of its size."

"You too?" Cara said, rolling her eyes.

The monk shook aside her snide comments and carefully opened the book. Richard leaned in and looked over, trying to see the text written on the pages. He felt something akin to hope well up inside him, resulting in him being highly anticipated to learn the contents of this book. It just felt really important.

"My word," murmured Cadelf, his eyes going wide.

"What?" Cara snapped, going from annoyed and anxious in a second.

"The Ovens," Cadelf said. "This book does not mince words. Highly concise, no doubt."

"What about the Ovens?" Richard inquired.

"We have to leave, now," Cadelf spoke, already standing and heading for his cloak and bag.

"Leave?" Cara frowned, jumping up to follow the monk. "Where?"

"The Ovens," Cadelf hurriedly answered. "Here, Lord Rahl, see for yourself." He shoved the book into Richard's hands.

Richard fumbled for a moment, and adjusted the book in his hands before looking down. Cara dashed back to his side and peered over his shoulder to glare down at the book.

"What is it?" she demanded.

He blinked, and stared at the words written in dark black lettering across the first page. They were not in some obscure or ancient language, as he had expected, but were in the common tongue. And the instructions were clear and precise.

 _Go to the Ovens_.


	59. The Beginning of The End

Time. That was what they needed. And they needed much more than fate seemed willing to grant them.

The old wizard stood out on the balcony, staring down at the vast plains below, trying not to think about the screams that occasionally drifted from inside. His eyes closed, silently praying to the Good Spirits that whatever it was that his grandson needed to do, it would be done quickly.

As things stood now, the future looked grim.

"Verna and the Mord'Sith have arrived," came the voice of the prophet as he held open the thick crimson curtain and stepped out to join Zedd. "They're with Kahlan in the Garden now, seeing what they can do for her."

"It's not natural, Nathan," Zedd said, turning to face the other. "Her labor… it should not be as intense as it is… or as long."

Nathan nodded, exhaling deeply and stepping up to the edge of the balcony to look down at the palatial city below. "I know. I… I cannot explain it," he replied, narrowing his azure eyes as he glared down. "It was not foreseen."

"In the end, I think nothing really is," Zedd put forth as he too turned to gaze down at the sight far below them.

"Wiser men have though less," Nathan concurred, gripping the stone railing and leaning forward, grimacing. He hung his head and glanced hesitantly at the wizard. "What are we to do, Zedd? The Mother Confessor is indisposed, General Meiffert is incapacitated, and the Lord Rahl… he's just missing in action."

"Richard is working to save us, Nathan," Zedd asserted firmly, giving his counterpart a stern glare.

Nathan sighed and straightened his shoulders. "That may be, but in the meantime, it appears to fall on you and me to lead the free people in this time of need." He paused, swallowing as he returned his gaze to the plains below.

Outside the city gates, the fields of Azrith were dotted with the enemy. The People's Palace was surrounded. And for the first time in it's history, the palace city was laid under siege. No one had ever dared attempt such a thing, as it had previously been deemed a futile gesture. But the Imperial Order was unlike any foe they had ever encountered.

The old prophet like out a shaky breath and his shoulders sagged in what appeared to be defeat. "This is the beginning of the end, my friend," he murmured. "Nothing can save us now."

Zedd frowned, and gritted his teeth. "How can you, of all people, surrender to despair?" he questioned. "You've seen glimpses of potential futures. You must know of other possible conclusion to current events."

" _This_ ," Nathan hissed. "This  _here_  is the end, Zeddicus." The prophet slammed a fist against the stone railing. "The last vision I saw before my gift was banished by the Chimes of Death was  _this_."

"You saw the siege?" Zedd inquired, cautiously, his bushy grey eyebrows rising up in surprise.

"No," the prophet shook his head, casting a sideways glance at him. "I saw the city in flames, overrun by the horde. Civilization will be lost, leaving room for chaos and darkness to take its place."

"What have Richard and the prophecy about him?"

"That was made long ago," Nathan said. "As First Wizard, Zedd, you should be quite will aware the prophecy is not written in stone. Magic requires balance, as in all things, and free will is the balance to prophecy."

"Richard doesn't believe in prophecy, never has, probably never will," Zedd asserted.

"And that is what makes him our only hope," Nathan replied with a thin pursed lipped grin, something sad about him. He sighed and relaxed the tension of his body, leaning heavily against the stone supports. "In the end, it will be one man that decides the fate of many."

The wind howled in the night air and they could hear the sounds of the enemy encampment waft up from down below. Zedd frowned and knitted his eyebrows together as he glared down at the mass of vandals. Though he had once fought against D'Hara in the First D'Haran War, leading the Midlands as the First Wizard, he had never once witnessed an army of this vastness and size. It was staggering, really, to see the amount of men crowding down on the Azrith Plains, waiting for their chance to breach the walls of ransack the People's Palace.

"If there is a way, Richard… Richard will find it," Zedd asserted, unsure who he was trying to convince more, himself or Nathan.

"And that is all we can hope," Nathan replied, his voice almost a thin whisper on the edge of a razor. "If the Chimes had not sapped him of him of his memories, I would be more inclined to think happier thoughts and believe in the more prosperous outcomes I had foreseen. But… that is not the case. He is out there, alone, with no knowledge of who he really is."

"He is not alone," Zedd spoke up, having more confidence in this assertion. "Cara and Brother Cadelf are with him."

Nathan shrugged. "That may be so, but even they cannot tell him who he is. He… needs to learn that for himself. It his is fate. Being the pebble in the pond, sending ripples out across the water when he falls. His choices and decisions, whatever they might be, will have long lasting ramifications."

Zedd lets out a long breath, feeling the weight of his age. "Then I guess time will tell, after all," he said, glancing over at Nathan.

The prophet nodded and turned his gaze back out to the vast hordes below and at the hundreds of campfires sparking to life in the dimming light. "Whatever is to come, Zedd," he spoke with profound seriousness. "Whatever it might be… one thing is for certain."

"What?"

Nathan straightened and arched his neck, looking back in the direction he had come. The faints sounds of the labor pains of the Mother Confessor drifted out from behind the curtains, echoing through the inner chambers of the palace.

"The children must be protected."

Zedd concurred with a nod, and then furrowed his brow in confusion. "You're not just talking in generalizations, are you?"

The old prophet shifted on his feet and looked up at Zedd with a slightly bemused expression. "No, I was not."

"Children," Zedd echoed, rolling the word around in his mouth. "So it is true, then?"

"Yes," Nathan said. "Out of all the possible futures I have seen,  _she_  always gives births to two."

Zedd cast a glance back in the direction of where Kahlan Amnell was being cared for. "Is it going to be hard on her?"

"Yes," Nathan inclined his head. "This birth was never meant to be easy. It was always going to be hard, no matter the time or place or circumstances surrounding it."

"When did you see this?" Zedd raised his eyebrows in amazement while he stepped over to the edge and leaned against the stone besides the prophet.

Nathan let out a breath, and raked his fingers through his shoulder length of hair, straight and silver. "It was one of the first visions that was granted to me," he answered quietly. "And one of the lasts."

Zedd inclined his head, recognizing the significance. "So it means the children are important?"

"Correct," Nathan bobbed his head. "And what worries me is this… I don't know which side they shall be on?"

"Side? They are only children, they cannot pick a side," Zedd chuckled, shaking his head, though he was still a little baffled by the statement.

"There father is not here, Zeddicus," Nathan said, using Zedd's full name for emphasis. "He cannot protect them or guide them. And he is the only one that can truly protect them from the veil of darkness that is threatening to consume us all."

Zedd rubbed the back of his neck and pursed his lips. "Then let us hope Richard succeeds."

"Hope, I'm afraid, is probably all we have left," was Nathan's response.

XXX

There was little light to be had. It was enough to provide the minimum amount of visibility, but not nearly enough to see properly. The flames flicker in the iron brazier, located in the center of the tent, was approaching its last gasp of life, slowly turning to embers. The only bright side to the whole terrible ordeal was that they were together.

Nicci let out a raspy breath, sucking in much needed oxygen past the sore and aching throbbing of her throat. Her neck hurt, large, hand-shaped bruises staining her perfect skin where the Emperor had choked her during their last session together. Poor Sheldon had been forced to watch that, too, witnessing all the vile ways in which the Emperor had made the former Sister of the Dark his plaything. She shuddered at the memories, her body still trembling with the pain, the lower part of her body numb.

The chains rattled as he moved, turning as best he could under their restrains. Nicci closed her eyes, letting out a long painful breath. It hurt to breath.

Somehow he managed to place a hand, tender and gentle, on her shoulder. She could not help but flinch. It pained her to have this reaction to him touching her, but the last few days had been a leaving hell, infused with all the wicked and disgusting nature that was the Emperor and his sexual appetite. Nicci actually felt pity for Sister Bree, her former Sister of the Dark, knowing now what she had been through. However, Bree did not seemed as affected by it all as Nicci had been. Perhaps that's because Bree had never known true kindness and love.

"Nicci?"

Her eyes shot up. "I'm still here, Arwin," she wheezed out, finding it difficult to speak. Her voice was coarse, no longer holder that ethereal quality it had always had. Another token of Jagang's cruelty.

"How…?" he paused, swallowing past something, most likely a sudden lump in his throat. "How are you doing?"

"I've been better," she managed a sardonic smile, even if he couldn't seen it.

"I'm sorry," came Sheldon's response.

Nicci's head snapped up, her eyes wide. She tried to arch her body so that she could look at him, but it was difficult. They were chained together, yes, but it was not in a way that allowed them to actually see one another. Another cruel taunt by the Emperor.

"Why are you sorry, Arwin?" she croaked out. "You… you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes, I do," he murmured, his voice a hiss, insistent, willing her to agree. "What is happening to you…" he paused, letting out an anguished sigh. "What is happening to you is because of me."

"No," she responded quickly, trying desperately to assuage his guilt. "Even if you were not here, my fate would still be the same."

"Perhaps," Sheldon relented. "But maybe he wouldn't be so cruel if I weren't."

"What?" Nicci was confused.

"He forces me to watch as he rips you apart, Nicci," Sheldon's voice is soft and defeated. "The things… Dear Creator… the things he's done to you. I wouldn't even wish upon my worse enemy." He paused, inhaling deeply, building up the strength to make his point. "He's only being so cruel because of me… because you love me, and could never love him."

Nicci furrowed her eyebrows. She had to admit, Sheldon was probably right. But that still did not change the fact that her fate in the Emperor's bed would still have been the same. Maybe less violent, but she'd still be raped and taken against her will. Though, admittedly, it did make things worse that the man she had come to love was force to witness her being defiled.

Her mind snapped, and the sudden impact of it all came crashing down. Her chest heaved as a searing pain gripped her heart. Her breath was ragged and shallow. She was close to hyperventilating. She was going to pass out. She knew it. The whole weight of what was happening, it was suddenly too much for her to handle. Her mind couldn't cope with the devastating effects that the Emperor's wicked ways had wrought on her body and psyche.

How could a man like Sheldon ever care for her when she had been tainted and stained by such vileness as the Emperor had down to her? She was no longer whole. She was broken. Granted, she was like that already, but not to the same extent she was now. She felt tired and worn out. Whatever vibrancy she had once possess, was no long sense gone. Covered up and ripped away by the horrible abuse she had been dealt.

The evidenced marred her once perfect body. Bruises graces her hips, legs, neck, arms… her entire being. Her beauty was diminished. She was no longer the woman she had once been, even if she ever was that woman. She really couldn't even stand on her own, having to be carried back and forth from the Emperor's bed to her current confinement. The only things that kept her upright were the chains holding her up… and Sheldon's presence. She wanted to be strong for him. He might not be going through the same punishment she was, but he was still being torment by it all.

"It doesn't change anything, though," his voice penetrated her overwhelmed mind, embracing her, a balm to her frayed nerves.

"Doesn't change want?" she panted.

"My love," he replied. "For you. It will never diminish. No matter what he's done or will do to you. I will always love you, Nicci."

"Oh, Sheldon," she lowered her head, ashamed that for a moment she had doubted the strength of his love. Her heart beat profoundly under her ribs, expanding within her chest as she allowed his love to soak in, fill the empty place, give her strength. She had seen this with Richard and Kahlan, the returned love and how it gave both of them strength. Nicci had never once believed she'd even be on the receiving end of such devoted love.

Grimacing against the pain, Nicci forced her neck to turn, wanting to look upon his face. Sheldon's neck was craned over his shoulder, his dark haired matted against this forehead, his face creased with dark lines, and shadows, but his green eyes still shimmered and shone with such a fiery passion for life that her breath caught.

This man. What did she ever do to deserve him? She certainly couldn't think of anything. Before she'd met the Seeker, Nicci had lead a pretty low life, serving death and the Keeper and all evil things. She'd never been a good girl. Even when she was younger. Or was that just her mother speaking? A terrible woman. Never showed her any love, called it a weakness. "You have to be hard and cold to survive in this world, my little Nicci," her mother had said.

And Nicci had. She'd been cold, heartless, and cruel. She had earned the appellation of Death's Mistress. And rightly so. But now… now she wanted more. She wanted to be more than what she had been. Wanted to be better. And for the first time, Nicci realized that it was not just because of Richard. He'd been the spark, the initial ignition to the flame. But the fuel… the thing that kept it going… it was this man, chained and beaten, resting on the stack alongside her.

This man. This was the man that made her really want to be better.

This man. This was the man who made her want to live, to fight to survive.

Pulling against the chains holding her arms, Nicci stretched, ignoring the pain that flashed through her shoulder as she did so. Ever so delicately, she placed a hand on Sheldon's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating out against her.

"I love you, too," she murmured, her heart swelling with happiness, true happiness, at the stunned awe in his eyes and the faint smile on his lips.

If only she could kiss him. Spirits, how she wanted to kiss him. But that was not possible. So instead, Nicci opted for gazing into his eyes, letting the glimmer in her eyes tell him how much she loved him, saying more with just that look than she ever could with her words. From his response, it was obvious he understood. His lips tugged slightly and his eyes sparkled.

The moment was abruptly stolen from them as the tent flap swooshed upon and General Jor Vicck came sauntering in, his fur cloak slung back to reveal the studded leather armor he wore across his chest. His hand was on the hilt of his sword and his forehead glistened with sweat.

Behind him were the camp 'doctors'. They were all dirty, which was commonplace amongst the Imperial Order. Hardly anyone, saved for the empty and some of the officers, bathed. The smells the drifted around the camp, when she was dragged through the sludge and mud, was revolting. She often had to fight the urge to purge herself, but most times, what little dignity she had left after the Emperor had had his way with her, she didn't care.

Vicck stepped over to the brazier, grabbed an iron poker and stoked the fire, bringing life to the dying embers. One of the other men added some kindling and the flames crackled, the light returning to the dimly lit tent.

The Imperial Order general stood there for a moment, gazing down at them, his expression blank, showing no signs as to what the man was thinking. Nicci had come to tolerate the man's coldness. He should no sympathy or compassion. He truly did not care what became of her. All she knew was his vague references to  _tes'vorgo_.

Nicci did not know the word, but it did sound remotely similar to others she had heard. She did, however, know that the word was not of any of the common tongue, nor was it in the dark language spoken in the Underworld, the tongue of the Keeper. No. It was ancient, yes, but as old as that. It sounded similar to High D'Haran, so her best guess was that the word _tes'vorgo_  was related someway to the ancient D'Harans.

"How are you this evening?" Vicck inquired, slowly removing his leather gloves, one finger at a time. "Feeling better? Or are you still sore between the legs, whore?"

Nicci senses Sheldon tense at Vicck's choice of words. Surreptitiously, she slipped one hand around her back and found his, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. They both needed to be strong, and smart, if they were to survive this imprisonment.

The tent flapped moved again, this time a tall man dressed in fine armor, holding a gleaming pike, stepped in. Another followed, and this one held the tent flapped open. After a moment's pause, the Emperor ducked inside, his bald crown covered in a sheen of moisture. His broad brawny chest was barely covered in a lambskin vest. His muscles flexed as he bobbed his head, walking further inside, coming up alongside his general.

The guards remained by the tent opening, still holding the flap apart, allowing Sister Bree, dressed in the red robes of a Sister of the Dark, to enter.

"Hello, Nicci," Bree purred, her lips curved upwards in a cruel and mocking smirk. "Good to see you again."

The Emperor grunted, and Bree inclined her head, stepping over to him and remaining silent by his side, though her keen eyes still locking menacingly on Nicci. General Vicck rolled the iron poker around in the brazier, letting the metal heat up.

Nicci eyed them all, suspicious as to the nature of their visit. If it were time for her 'sessions' with the Emperor, only the guards would have come to escort her to his tent. No. This had nothing to do with that. Something else was going on.

"The Mother Confessor is with child, yes?"

It was Vicck who did the speaking.

"Obviously," snorted Nicci, finding the very question absurd. Everyone already knew the answer, so why both asking it.

Vicck smirked and continued to rotate the poker in the flames, deep within the kindling. She could already see the end glowing orange with the growing heat.

"Rumors are abound," Vicck continued, a small smile on his lips, "that the Lord Rahl is no longer within the walls of the People's Palace. Some believe he has run away, fear getting the better of him."

Nicci rolled her eyes, but remained silent. There was no way that Richard would run away. It was not in his nature. Even in his current state, the man she knew as the Seeker of Truth would never abandon the helpless in their hour of need.

"He is gone, Nicci," the Emperor spoke, his voice low and booming. "It has been confirmed."

Nicci blinked, stunned and unbelieving. No. It was no possible. Not Richard.

"What…?" she clamped her mouth shut. She would not dignify these villains with that question.

Bree smirked, having sensed what her question was to be. "The Mother Confessor remains. Along with the Wizard Zorander and the Prophet Nathan Rahl."

"All except for the Lord Rahl have remained to defend the last hold outs to the rapture that is the Order," Vicck finished, pulling the poker out, the tip now a bright white.

She began to stammer, uncertainty flashing across her eyes. Surely they would not torture her when they required her for the purposes of breeding a mix child with dream walker and subtractive magic…  _Sheldon_! Dear spirits, they were going to torture the man she loved right in front of her, while she was chained alongside him. She would feel his pain, hear his screams, his pleas for mercy never to be granted.

No. No. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

Sister Bree smirked and took the red-hot poker from General Vicck. "May I?"

The general glanced up to the Emperor, who nodded his consent. Vicck released his hold on the poker and handed it to the former Sister of the Dark. Bree clutched the cool end of the iron poker in her hand, her knuckles turning white with the fierceness of her grasp. A small twisted smile formed on Bree's lips, her eyes darkening with a sick form of demented pleasure.

"You will tell us all that we need to know," she spoke in a calm, calculated voice as she approached them, her eyes locked on Nicci, but her body directed towards Sheldon, along with that glow orange poker, hovering far too closely to him. "Or your love here… will die."


	60. The Harbingers

They're hovering, over the mountain, wanting desperately to find him, the one that has the power, the power to consume and bind them, but they were thwarted, kept away. And it's eating at them, tearing them apart. They want so desperately to commune with him, to seek his powers and devour them, relish in the feeling, bloat and grow large with the immensity that was his strength… magical and otherwise. Sapping his life force… the anticipation was nearly overwhelming. Just a sample of it drove them wild, crazy for more.

They just have to have it.

One taste was not enough. Never enough. They have to have it all.

The three of them, soared over the mountaintop, sensing the strong magic within, buried deep… where  _he_  was.

Father.

He was stronger than they initially thought when they took his memories. Mother was strong. They already knew that. She had given birth to them, in a manner of speaking. Breathing life into them, bringing them into this world by speaking the words, calling, summoning them from the deepest darkest bowels of the Underworld. She freed them from their eternal prison.

They were called for a specific purpose, to free father of the disease that ravaged him. Mother was inconsolable. She needed father. So they had obliged, feeling the anguish she felt, and also wanting to return the favor, as it were, in gratitude for their freedom from confinement.

When they had first touched father, they had felt the strength of him, the power within, intense and electrifying. It made them tremble and quake in fear. They had never felt something like that… not in a long time. The first had been when they were born, created to devour and consume the magic of the world. It was awe inspiring and terrible at the same time. So they did what they had been summoned to do, they took the plague from father and then soared away, ready to go about their ingrained mischief.

Now, though, after consuming and ravishing all of what was left of magic in the world, they found their hunger far from sated. They needed more. So much more that it was even possible that they could never truly find satisfaction with what they found. So much had changed since their original manifestation into this foreign world of the living.

So, when they felt the strong pulse, the beat and boom of powerful magic, the three sisters forgot about father, about the magic he still held, and soared away from the mountain and hidden caverns within.

It was deep, ancient magic, that they felt, that pulled at them. Wetting their appetites, they flew across the large, gliding through the air, twisting and turning with delight at finally sensing something that was far more appealing than the fraction of magic that was still held by father.

They coasted above the world, over the vast destruction wrought by the horde that had been slowing making its way across the land. Soon, they found themselves at the barren plains of Azrith, a place devoid of magic for so many years, they had all but ignored it. In the distance, they could sense the quickening, pulsating out like a beacon to them, calling them to it.

They hovered over the massive camp spread out before them. They could sense great suffering at the hands of a darkness that intrigued them. It stopped them for a moment, gave them pause. It was enticing, so very enticing. They could feel the pull of it, bringing them closer.

But the other… it was far more sumptuous. The pulse of it, stronger now, pulling at them with greater force than they had ever felt before. Because it was not just one that they felt, but two. Two strong and appetizing beats. If they had mouths, they would surely be salivating with the anticipation of the feast awaiting them.

They wanted to devour it.

Ignoring the strife and misery below them, the three sisters soared ahead, towards the tall spires of the man palace. It made them laugh, the arrogance of man to build such things. All things end. All things crumble and die… fade away. Especially with man. The foolish and mortal beings that created them.

Floating higher, they reached out, sending feelers in search of the source of the awe inspiring power they sensed… it was like nothing they'd ever encountered. Father had been one thing, but this… this was different. Unique and special. And it was doubled. Two. Anticipation was killing them. They needed it now. Needed to consume it and grow fat with the power.

The three sisters rocketed up into the waning light, rushing past minarets and the towering peaks of domes and pinnacles of the People's Palace, heading towards the very top of it all, to a lush and vibrant green in the center, where life was vivid and full.

XXX

The Garden of Life was temping with activity. Handmaidens were rushing back and forth with pitchers of heated water and washcloths. Ruthy, the Mother Confessor's maidservant, was supervising all of it. The midwife had been sent for, but most of them seemed to believe she'd arrive too late. With that in mind, Verna had taken over the duties of directing most of the activity.

Cynthia remained at her sister's side, holding her hand and occasionally wiping a damp washcloth across her forehead. The two wizards had left, gone out onto the balcony, presumably to speak privately, and Cynthia found it a little worrying that they would do so. Kahlan's eyes were as wide as saucers, and she just knew that her twin needed the reassurance of her husband's grandfather.

The Mord'Sith hovered protectively around them, creating a circle. The men of the First File had all been keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude, mostly keeping to the perimeter of the Garden of Life, ceding the protection of the Mother Confessor and the future offspring of the Lord Rahl to the Mord'Sith and their ring of red.

Since the absence of magic prevented the use of their agiels, the women bore steel blades instead. Some even had their blades brandished, ready and willing, while others had left them sheathed. Cynthia didn't know what worried her most, the fact that there were so many weapons around them, or that it was believed necessary to have them present, even this deep within the confines of the People's Palace, far away from the tumult going on outside with the siege by the Imperial Order.

"Oh spirits!" a cry from her twin called her back from her thoughts.

Cynthia turned and winced when Kahlan's grip on her hand tightened. She gritted her teeth and shoved down the pain. Cynthia knew that her pain paled in comparison to the agony that Kahlan was going through. Her skin was clammy and pale, and her blue eyes were watery and hazy, clouded in awful discomfort.

"Verna!" Cynthia cried out. "How much longer? She's been in labor… for… for so long. It is not natural. She should have given birth by now."

The Sister of the Light stood up from her kneeling position by the base of the makeshift bed that the maidservants had hastily constructed. "I know, Cynthia," she replied in a long exacerbated sigh. "I've been present during many births over my lifetime, but none have been as… prolonged as this."

Rikka, Kahlan's overprotective personal bodyguard, stepped forward. "Is… is she in any danger?" the Mord'Sith asked, fiddling nervously with her blonde braid.

Verna's eyes glanced down, narrowing as she contemplated the question. "No… I don't think so," she shook her head. "However, if she doesn't give birth soon, we might have to…"

"No!" came a commanding voice.

They all turned to see Nathan striding out from behind the curtains that covered the opened balcony, Zedd not far behind. Verna huffed and scowled at the prophet.

"I'm not going to stand by and do nothing, Nathan," she snapped. "Kahlan is in a tremendous amount of pain. If the baby does not come soon…  _naturally_ , then we'll have to… um… help it along."

"You mean cut her open?" Cynthia screeched in terror.

Verna softened her expression. "I wasn't going to be so blunt, but yes, we might have to do so if this continues for much longer."

"You don't understand," Nathan said, stepping up to Verna and tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. "The Mother Confessor is carrying twins."

"Twins!" hooted Cynthia in surprise, squeezing her sister's hand tighter.

"Dear spirits!" Kahlan cried, having overheard. "How…," she gritted her teeth through a contraction. "How… do… you know?"

"Prophecy," Nathan answered simply, his eyes looking down at the Mother Confessor. "I had a vision. In all possibilities, you always give birth to twins."

Kahlan let out a ragged sob.

"And did you see this too?" Verna inquired, glaring at him. "Did you see Kahlan in this agonizing pain… this… this unnatural, prolonged labor?"

"No," Nathan slumped his shoulders and eased back. "I did not see that. The… the Chimes, when they returned, much of what once was… was disrupted, altered."

"The point is," Zedd stepped in, "Kahlan has to give birth naturally. It is the only way for both children to survive."

"And… and what of me?" Kahlan gasped out, panting hard, chest heaving. Cynthia leaned forward and dabbed the damped cloth along her forehead. "Will… will I survive?"

Zedd's lips turned into a thin line and he glanced at comrade. The prophet knitted his eyebrows together. "Unseen," Nathan answered, his voice calm and unemotional. "The presence of the Chimes makes that unknown. Their presence is what sparked this early birth, of that I am certain. The children are still too weak, and any means of birthing, other than natural, will put them in danger. And for the world to be righted, they must be born. They must survive."

"My… my," Kahlan shuddered and wailed out in pain, clutching her sister's hand in a vise-like grip. She trembled and sucked in a sharp gasp. "Important? My children are important?"

"Yes... very," Nathan confirmed with a nod.

Kahlan lolled her head back and closed her eyes against a wave of pain. Verna uncrossed her arms and pushed towards Nathan, giving him a glare and shooting a looking at Zedd.

"You're not helping, either of you," she said. "Kahlan needs comfort and encouragement, and all this talk of prophecy and the Chimes… it's not helping."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Nathan bobbed his head. "But it had to be said. I had to ensure a natural birth."

A mirthless laugh resounded out from the Mother Confessor as she rolled in agony. Cynthia turned and locked eyes with her sister in understanding. She turned and glared out at Nathan, almost sneering.

"None of this has been natural," she cried out, defending her twin. "If you have nothing constructive to add… then, as her only blood relative present, I ask you to leave!"

Nathan shrugged and raised his hands in defeat. "I shall then go check on General Meiffert."

"You do that," Verna nodded. "Zedd?"

"Oh… um," the old wizard looked back and forth between Kahlan and Nathan. The prophet gave him a look with an arched eyebrow. Zedd turned back to Verna. "If it is all the same with you, I will stay."

Kahlan seemed to calm considerably at that, and Verna let out a sigh and gave a nod. Nathan narrowed his eyes, and then departed, taking the tension with him.

"Thank you, Zedd," Cynthia said as the old wizard sat down next to her. "She really needs you right now. Besides Richard and myself, you're the only family she has left." She ignored Frederick Amnell, he had not been forgotten. Kahlan and spoken to her about their father. And though he had returned, there was still much rebuilding to be done, if he was even still alive.

Zedd nodded, and turned to Kahlan, running his large hand over her damp forehead. "I'm here, dear one, and I'm not leaving you side."

Kahlan whimpered softly, but managed a slight nod in gratitude, her eyes speaking more than she could at the moment. Her lips trembled and she eased into his touch.

"Oh… Zedd, I need Richard," she sobbed through the pain.

"I know, dear one," Zedd soothed. "So do we all. Try and breath through the contractions. I remember when my wife was going through labor pains, breathing helped."

Kahlan nodded and tried to do as he told her. Cynthia sighed in relief when Kahlan calmed. She glanced up at Zedd. "Is there anything we can do to help… I don't know… speed this along?"

Zedd's eyes lit up. "Verna?"

"I heard," the Sister of the Light's brow was furrowed. She then snapped her fingers and she turned to Nyda. "Go find Warren. Tell him to see if there are any apothecaries that carry Ku'tur tonic."

"Will that help?" Cynthia inquired, squeezing Kahlan's hand, aware that her sister was listening.

Zedd was bobbing his head. "Right now, I'd say it's the only thing that could."

Nyda looked back and forth between them and Rikka. Rikka narrowed her eyes and gave a nod, consenting to it. Nyda pointed to two other Mord'Sith and the group was off to find the young prophet and this healing elixir.

XXX

Bree pushed the leather curtain aside and stepped out of the tent, blinking into the darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust until venturing further out. Two guards awaited her, and immediately took up flanking positions, following behind her as she marched with purpose through the camp.

The men were huddled around their merger campfires, getting what warmth they could. The Azrith Plains were much cooler than anyone had expected. Bree was slightly surprised as well. It wasn't as cold as it had been in the mountains, but it was still chilly, and she found herself grateful for the fur cloak that the Emperor had deigned to provide her with. Before the capture of Nicci, Bree would have been forced to make do with the ragged remains of her red robes she had worn at the Palace of the Prophets.

Tugging the cloak tighter around her petite frame, Bree narrowed her eyes and glared ahead, where the command tent stood. It was obvious which tent was the base of operations for the Imperial Order's army. Above the tanned canvas peaks, fluttering in the gently breeze, were black banners, all marked with the sigil of the Order.

The guards standing before the entrance were similar to those following her. They were the elite. And unlike their brutish comrades, these men were not stupid or easily fooled. She'd even had to submit to some of them as a reward for good services. Yes. That one there, standing to the left side of the command tent… she'd serviced him twice. It had been rare, as she was the Emperor's whore, but for loyal men, his standard 'hands-off' rule was revoked… just as long as he gave permission and personally handed her over to them for a night.

Bree gave the guard a look. He'd been pretty good. Unlike most of the men she'd been with since her time as a sex slave, he'd been quite skilled and had managed to give her some pleasure in the act as well. Most men just took what they wanted and when they were done, just threw her aside. Like the Emperor. He took what he wanted, however, when he was through with her, he did not throw her aside. He kept her by his side, so that he could partake in her again, when the mood struck, of course.

The guard reached forward and pulled the leather curtain open for her. Bree pursed her lips and gave him a tight smile, before ducking her head and entering.

"Your Excellency, the latrine diggers have found something," a lieutenant was in the middle of speaking when Bree made her way inside.

The man was small in comparison to the Emperor. Then again, most men were. The Emperor's massive bulk allowed him to practically dwarf many of his subordinates. The only one who seemed to stand just as tall was General Jor Vicck, though he was not as brawny or hulky as the Emperor.

Jagang's eyes locked with hers the moment she entered and his lips tugged upwards in an almost sadistic grin. His black, white-less eyes bore into her with an intensity that disturbed her. It was like he was sexually starved, despite the fact he'd been bedding Nicci almost constantly since it was decided she would bare the future salvation of the Order.

Bree shuddered, averting her eyes and sucking in a shaky breath. She'd been enjoying her time off, as it were, and was not looking forward to the prospect of having to endure his so-called attentions again.

"My lord?"

Vicck's voice pulled Bree out of her brooding thoughts. The Emperor turned his gaze away from her and towards the general. For the first time, Bree found herself actually grateful for Jor Vicck.

"General?" came the Emperor's voice, low and throaty, like he wasn't getting enough sleep. Probably wasn't, what with all the time spent bedding Sister Nicci.

"The diggers, sire," Vicck said, scratching the bristles on his chin. "They've found something."

"Yes, yes," the Emperor gave a nod, scowling, clearly irritated. Bree smiled thinly, pleased with his dissatisfaction. He glanced in her direction briefly, before returning his attention to his subordinates. "What is it that they have found that was so important you needed to wake me in the middle of the night?"

"Caves," one lieutenant said.

"Tunnels," another said.

Vicck harrumphed. "What these two idiots mean to say is that we've stumbled upon the underground catacombs of the city."

The Emperor smirked and stroked his chin with his fingers, casting a look over at Bree. "And these catacombs, you believe they connect with the city itself."

"I would wager yes, my lord," Vicck nodded, turning his gaze to Bree. "That is why I requested the presence of the witch."

Bree narrowed her eyes and glared at him. They had their differences, that's for sure, but they both believed in the cause… perhaps him more than her, but in the end, they were still on the same side.

"And why, pray tell, would you need me, General Vicck?" Bree demanded, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest.

Vicck grinned. "The catacombs are ancient,  _Sister_  Bree," he explained. "And though you don't have any magic now… you still have some… minor abilities. Abilities that could be of use to a raiding party."

"Ah, yes," the Emperor inclined his eyes in agreement, looking back at Bree with that same intense stare. "The good general is correct, darlin. You could be of some use." He turned back to Vicck. "So, you suggest a small group, I presume."

"Yes, sire," Vicck bowed his head. "A squad of ten men, plus Sister Bree, should suffice. The catacombs are, no doubt, vast. So it would be pointless to send any more men than that. They could get separated and lost easily. I believe the focus should be on reconnaissance, nothing more."

The Emperor stroked the thin hairs dangling from his chin. "I concur, General," he spoke, straightening his back and puffing out his brawny chest. "I leave it in your capable hands. Prepare the men. I want intelligence as soon as possible as to the conditions within the city."

Vicck gave a nod. "Your will is my command, my lord."

Folding his hands behind his back, the Emperor inclined his head in approval, and then swiftly made his exit, pausing momentarily to glance at Bree. That look swam in his eyes, an almost desperate need that shocked her. Surely Nicci met the Emperor's carnal needs. Bree found the notion slightly revolting that a man such as Jagang could feel anything more than the needs of the flesh. She had a sense he might actually have some sort of feelings for her, but this… this was getting out of control, especially when she'd finally be released from his bed and replaced by Nicci. Bree had no desire to return to the role of Emperor's whore. She left that in the unwilling arms of Nicci.

"Witch!" Vicck snarled at her.

"General," she sneered back, inclining her head, only in recognition of his orders. "Why don't we go examine the site where the diggers uncovered the caves and see if they truly are catacombs. Then…," she paused, her scowling deepening, "then you can gather the men and we shall delve into the tunnels and find out whether or not they lead to the People's Palace."

XXX

Kahlan cried out in pain. Spirits, she'd never been in this much pain, ever. It tore at her insides, feeling like something was trying to rip her open. Her vision was blurry at times, due in no small part to the amount of sweat that dripped down into her eyes. Cynthia, bless her, tried her best to soothe her, but it was a lost cause. Nothing would soothe her. Nothing.

She arched her back, her muscles tensing as the contraction hit her. She roared in pain, grabbing her twin's proffered hand tightly. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe through the blinding agony. Zedd's hand was on her forehead, his thumb brushing tenderly as he tried to calm her with soft words of comfort.

Shaking her head, Kahlan lashed out at him, cursing and groaning as she trembled with all her might to stay conscious. She was vaguely aware of maidservants rushing about, the flurry of activity almost dizzying. All this was because of her. She was in an unnatural labor, a labor that felt like it had gone on for days, though in truth it had probably only been a couple of hours. Kahlan really didn't know how long she'd been in here, surrounded by the lush and vibrant colors of the Garden of Life. All she knew was the pain and anguish of not having Richard by her side.

"He should be here," she panted out in-between contractions. "He should be here."

"Shh, dear one," Zedd mumbled, bringing a washcloth to her forehead. "Calm yourself."

"Calm… how… how can I be calm?" she moaned as a rippling pain shot through her side. She cried out, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"VERNA!"

It was Warren. The young wizard was rushed in, Nyda and two fellow Mord'Sith trailing behind . The Sister of the Light was squatting down by the base of the makeshift bed. Kahlan could feel her hands rubbing her legs and for a moment Kahlan blushed with embarrassment as she realized her skirt had been shoved up and she was exposed, for all to see.

"Did you find it?" Verna inquired, shifting up a bit, taking her attention away from Kahlan.

"Yes," Warren said, holding up his hand. Kahlan squinted and spotted what appeared to be a small white vial. No. It wasn't white. The vial itself was glass, clear… so the contents within must be white. The viscosity of the liquid resembled that of milk.

"Good, good," Verna let out a relieved sigh, standing up to take the vial from her lover. She turned back around and stepped over. Zedd gave a quick nod, squeezing Kahlan's hand and standing up, making room for the sorceress.

Verna sat down on the edge of the bed, alongside Kahlan. Her eyes surveyed her, before her hand came up to gently run down the side of Kahlan's face, brushing some damp tendrils of dark hair behind an ear.

"Kahlan, you need to swallow this," she said, popping the stopper off the vial.

"What… what is it?" Kahlan croaked out, swallowing hard, her throat dry.

"Ku'tur tonic. It is very rare, but thankfully there appears to have been an apothecary in the city that had some," Verna explained. "It will help with the birthing… speed it up."

"Speed it up?" Kahlan echoed, suddenly terrified. She was barely holding on as it was. She did not know if she could handle it if the process was increased ten-fold.

"Isn't that dangerous?" came Cynthia's voice, and Kahlan let out a breathy sigh, grateful for her sister's presence.

Verna's expression was blank and unreadable. "Right now, delaying any further is more dangerous than waiting," she said, meeting Cynthia's gaze. "Nothing about this is natural. The Chimes have no doubt caused this premature birth."

"The baby… I'm sorry, and the babies? What of them?" Cynthia questioned, shaking her head.

Kahlan breathed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut as she worked through another contraction. She could hardly believe that herself, however there had been a part of her that had suspected. It was still difficult to wrap her mind around it. She was going to give birth to twins. Just like her mother.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she feared that what had happened to her and Cynthia had happened to her babies. Was one going to be born confessor and the other normal?

However, unlike her mother, if it came to that, Kahlan would not send the other away. That much she was sure. She would keep both her babies. Her little girls would need her, especially now, with the world turned upside down. Spirits, they didn't even know if this world would last. The Imperial Order was spreading its chaos and was now at the gates. Oblivion and death could be around the next turn.

"Kahlan," it was Verna calling to her again, pulling her out of her wild thoughts. The older woman brushed her fingers along Kahlan's sweat drenched forehead, her touch kind and gentle. "Drink this, and then the waiting will be over. It will induce birth."

Kahlan swallowed hard and gave a weak nod. "Yes… I… I'll drink," she relented. She needed them out now, despite the fact it was too soon. Her body was fighting against itself, and she could already tell she was losing. She needed to give birth, the sooner the better.

"Kahlan?" Cynthia gripped her hand, the concern evident in her voice.

"No, it's alright, Cynthia," Kahlan breathed, squeezing her sister's hand. She turned back to Verna. "I'm ready."

Verna held the vial over Kahlan's trembling lips. Slowly, she tilted it and the white liquid poured out. Kahlan nearly choked. It may have looked like milk, but it tasted like it had been left out over night and had gone bad. She breathed through her noise and forced herself to swallow, ignoring the taste as best she could. Verna tilted the vial further until it was completely drained. Kahlan closed her eyes and swallowed the last bit of the elixir, coughing as she finished.

Kahlan let out a gasp and her eyes went wide.  _Oh... that's new_. Her body immediately seemed to warm and she was vaguely aware of Cynthia's hand on her forehead, shouting something about a fever. Verna was making hushing noises and was getting up, Zedd returning to his position by her side.

Blinking wildly, Kahlan turned her head and saw the wizard kneeling down, his hand clutching hers as her breathing slowed and calmed.

Verna dropped down between Kahlan legs. She felt the woman's hands on her ankles as she pulled her legs apart. And then the Sister of the Light was pushing the skirt further up, exposing all of Kahlan from the waist down. The maidservants were hovering behind Verna, holding washcloths and buckets of heated water. "Cynthia, I need your help," Verna called, looking up.

"Kahlan?" her twin's eyes were large and wide. Kahlan's heart swelled with sibling love. She remembered when she had to help Dennee deliver. Her younger sister hadn't wanted her far away, so it touched her so much that Cynthia didn't want to leave her side. But she also knew Verna was going to need help, seeing as the midwife never arrived, and especially with the fact that she was going to be birthing two premature babies.

"Please, Cynthia," Kahlan pleaded. "If you can help… please?"

Cynthia took in a shaky breath and nodded, leaning over to press a quick kiss on Kahlan's sweaty brow, before releasing her grip on her hand and moving down to the foot of the bed to assist the Sister of the Light. Kahlan leaned back into the pillows piled under her head and heaved in a deep breath. Zedd smiled down at her, and patted her forehead with a wet cloth.

"All right, Kahlan," Verna called out, kneeling down and leaning forward. "It's time. I need you to push."

Kahlan gritted her teeth and clutched Zedd's hand. Her body arched as she pushed with all her might, a scream tearing from her throat as she gave it her all.  _Dear spirits, this was only the first push… there will be more_.

"Good, Kahlan," Verna called out. "You're doing great."

She felt a hand caress her shin, and she risked a glanced down, seeing Cynthia kneeling down besides Verna. Kahlan gulped in a lungful of air, not realizing just how much comfort she really found having her sister down there as well. Her children were not going to have their father present for their birth, but at least they'd have her aunt, and great-grandfather.

Verna's firm voice broke through her fogged mind, and Kahlan clenched her jaw, obeying the instructions given to her. She cried out, the sound roaring throughout the Garden of Life as her body rocked with the physical pain. It felt like she was being torn apart. Verna shouted at her to push again, and she did. And then, very faintly, she heard the cries of her firstborn.

The child wailed with gusto, and for a moment, a solitarily wonderful moment, Kahlan was at ease, cast adrift in an instant of bliss. She was a mother. She had a child, born of the love she shared with Richard, and from the strength of the screams, their child was healthy, despite the early birth.

"Oh… Kahlan, she's beautiful," came Cynthia's voice.

With Zedd's help, Kahlan propped up and gazed down to the foot of the makeshift bed, watching as Cynthia held a wrinkly red-faced infant, mouth wide, a high pitch scream emanating from her tiny, yet powerful, lungs. The maidservants swooped in, assisting her twin in washing the child and severing the umbilical cord. Cynthia cradled the newborn in her arms, soothing and caressing her as she wrapped the infant in a swaddling cloth. Kahlan smiled, her heart swelling with joy.

She felt a shift down below, and grimaced, figuring it must be the second child turning into position. A tightness formed in her abdomen that felt unnatural. Zedd helped her to lay back down, his hand immediately producing a washcloth to wipe away the sweat that was dripping down her forehead and stinging her eyes.

"Alright, Kahlan, here we go again," Verna said, taking a deep breath before shifting on her knees and leaning down between her legs. "Push."

Kahlan's head fell back into the cushions as she screamed, focusing all her energy on bringing her second child into the world. Cynthia passed the firstborn off to Ruthy, and Kahlan's maidservant was sitting besides her, cradling the newborn, trying to soothe her.

"You're amazing, Kahlan," Cynthia reassured her, one hand rubbing up and down the side of her left leg, helping to calm her. She honestly did not know what she'd do without her twin sister, or anyone else present, for that matter.

"Okay, Kahlan, again… push," Verna instructed.

Kahlan cried, tears running down her face as she tensed her muscles and pushed, willing her second child to come.

"She's crowning," Verna said. "Now the shoulders. One more big push, Kahlan. You can do it."

"Richard," Kahlan sobbed. "Oh, Richard!" She gripped Zedd's hand, probably crushing it, but she did as she was told, grieving for her missing husband as she brought their children into this ravaged world on the brink of destruction.

There was a strange howl that echoed through the Garden of Life. A tree to the right burst into flames and the wind seemed to swirl around them. Zedd half stood, raising his free hand up as if he could summon his Han to protect them. There was a flash of light in the distance, followed not long after by thunder. The sudden sound of a rainstorm surrounded them, and Kahlan struggled the breathe. She groaned and convulsed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her body lost the battle against the pain.

Blackness consumed her… and it was vast and infinite.


	61. Spirited Away

Verna closed the door to her suite, letting out an exhausted sigh. The night had been long and tiring. She paused, resting against the hard oak of the door, just closing her eyes and breathing softly. She felt bad for Kahlan. That birth had been difficult on the confessor, so much so, that the poor woman had passed out at the very end of the whole ordeal. She sighed, knowing that things would only get more difficult for the confessor when she woke.

It was out of her hands now. Her family—First Wizard Zorander, Jennsen, and Cynthia, the confessor's twin—were now looking after Kahlan. Verna was still trying to get used to that shock. She'd now known Cynthia for many months, yet the physical similarities between the two women were striking. If Kahlan had not been heavy with child, Verna didn't know if even she could tell the difference between the two.

Taking a deep breath to cleanse her thoughts, Verna pushed off the door and turned around, taking in the dimly lit room. The wicks on the candles were low, some having already gone out. The shutters had been drawn, blocking out the moonlight, but the soft pattering of rain could be heard rapping against the wood.

Shifting on her fit, Verna squinted, trying to see in the darkness.

"Warren? Are you here?"

A shadow moved, and soon her husband was emerging from out of the blackness and into the warm glow of the candlelight. She smiled softly and went to him, excepting his embrace with a tinge of relief as she sagged into his chest, her fatigue catching up with her. Warren cooed softly, his hand gently caressing the back of her head, his fingers brushing along her brown ringlets with affections.

"You look tired," he commented, his other hand rubbing circles along her lower back.

Verna let out a huff. "I am," she said. She blinked and looked at him and smiled sadly. She told him everything, and he nodded, understanding the difficulty that was too come when the Mother Confessor woke up.

Slowly, he guided her to the bed, and she laid down, nestling her head against his chest as his arm wrapped around her. Their hands met between them, cradling her small belly. Verna swallowed heavily and licked her lips.

"I'm scared, Warren," she mumbled, her voice trembling. With anyone else, she would be mortified to admit this, but with Warren she always knew he would never judge.

His arm tightened around her, keeping her close as he dropped a kiss on top of her head. "What are you scared of, love?"

"When this one reaches term," she replied, spreading her fingers along the small swell of her belly. "I saw how difficult the birthing was for Kahlan, and she's so much younger that I." She sniffled, ashamed of how weak and timid she sounded. She couldn't help it. Seeing everything had only reminded her of the trials she would be facing in another couple of months. Verna was still in her first trimester, yet she was still terrified.

"You'll do fine, Verna," Warren replied, his hand caressing small patterns along the small of her back, comforting her with his touch. "I love you, and I have faith in you. You helped the Mother Confessor through this ordeal and she survived. But hers was an unusual birthing. Brought on by the Chimes. You are still many months away. And hopefully, if all goes according to plan, Richard will have banished the Chimes by then."

Verna nodded softly, stilling for a moment as she thought. Closing her eyes, she adjusted herself to cuddle closer to him. Warren moved slightly, pulling his free hand down to rest above her on her small belly. She smiled and tilted her head up to look at him.

"Whatever comes, we shall face it together, my love," Warren purred, and then dipped his head down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

XXX

The gaping maw before them is dark and ominous. Somewhere in the distance thunder sounds, warning of the approach of a storm. The wind whipped up and gathered the loose folds of Bree's red silk robe around her as she stood there, gazing down into the inky blackness. General Jor Vicck was climbing down with some men, to see what the diggers have found.

Bree decided she would wait for Vicck to make the inspection and then report back. She may loathe the man with all her being, but at least he is an efficient and competent soldier, something that this army of the Order severely lacks. She found it slightly amusing that they were able to conquer so much land with such little intellect behind their actions. Perhaps the massive size of the army gave them the advantage.

All she can do while she waited for news was to think. And think she did. Bree thought about how the Keeper, her Eternal Father, had made promises at the start of all this chaos. The Emperor claimed to be a servant of the Creator, yet through his actions, he served the Keeper. The more the Imperial Order killed, the more souls were delivered to the Underworld and the Keeper. Soon, the Keeper would have enough souls to fulfill his plans. The world would lose hope and the time would be right to strike.

Bree smiled thinly. She longed for that day. The day the rift between this world and the next would finally be permanently open. They had been so close the last time. All they had to do was kill the Mother Confessor. But with Nicci as their leader, they had failed. That damn whore had succumbed to the handsome features of the Seeker and turned her back on her sisterhood, abandoning them and their righteous cause.

Now it was Nicci's turn to feel the sting of rejection, and see the error of her ways. She would witness the might and power she'd given up for a man who was little more than a simple woodsman with no really knowledge of the world at large.

He was nothing. And thanks to the Chimes of Death, he was currently a shell of his former self. He was impotent, powerless. There was no way he could stop them. Stop her. Stop Him. The Keeper would finally prevail and Bree would finally be united with her Eternal Father and feel his cold embrace.

Suddenly, a firm hand landed on her shoulder. Bree flinched and looked up, seeing the Emperor standing besides her. His great bulk and large frame towered above her.

"A great hole," he chuckled darkly. "That's what you two have been looking at."

Bree narrowed her eye and bit her tongue, holding back a sharp retort that would only get her beaten… or worse, taken back to his bed. Even thought he had Nicci for that purpose, she knew he still wanted her. It was evident in the way his large hand slide down from its perch on her shoulder to rest possessively on her lower back.

"It is more than a hole, my Excellency," she replied, coolly.

The Emperor grinned and his dark inky eyes gazed at her for a moment, the hint of amusement flashing across the black depths of his eyes. "General Vicck returns, so we shall see what else there is in this whole," he replied, then added, "other than piss and shit."

She grimaced, the smell of it returning to her senses. This hole had been discovered where the latrines had been dug. When Vicck and her had first arrived, the stench of human waste had been overpowering. She had since found ways of ignoring the vile smell, but now it returned with a vengeance, and she felt nauseous.

The torchbearers appeared first, climbing up the rickety ladder. Vicck followed, heaving himself up with a grunt and harsh breath. She watched with satisfaction as his face twisted and pinched up at the stench. He spat on the ground and turned to face them, pounding his fist to his chest in salute to the Emperor.

"What have you found, General?"

Vicck cracked a smile, something Bree had never seen. "Catacombs, my liege," he said. "I've had some mean reconnoiter further and it would appear that the tunnels lead all the way under the People's Palace."

A sly grin formed across the Emperor's face. "Excellent, have a squadron of men assembled, I want you to perform a raid."

"Yes, my lord," Vicck saluted and turned to issue out the appropriate orders.

The Emperor's grip on Bree slipped down to her backside and he squeezed her left buttocks. She bit her lip as she felt his nails dig into her flesh. His breath was hot against her temple as he leaned down over her. "I'm going to need some… distraction, while Vicck leads the raid into the People's Palace, darlin'," he purred into her ear. "And seeing how Nicci is still recovering from our last session, I'm afraid you'd have to be a substitute until she can once again perform her duties."

Bree could not help herself. She whimpered in despair as his large hand wrapped around her waist and he tugged her back to his pavilion.

XXX

She was waking up. She could tell. The sounds, once dull and void, were becoming more solid, more vibrant and alive. At first, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs, and relishing the feel of once against feeling them expand and contract as she did something as simple as breath without the extraordinary urge to push.

Someone was talking. She couldn't pick out their words, what exactly was being said, just the steady cadence of the familiar voice was a relief, and the burden was lifted off her chest. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried to pull herself out of the fog of unconsciousness. Something tightened around her hand… fingers, maybe. She couldn't tell. But they warm, soothing, and familiar.

"She's waking," it sounded like her voice. Was she talking? She didn't think she was, but the voice sounded so like hers. But it wasn't. It wasn't her voice. It was someone else, whose voice was an exact duplicate for hers—her twin. Her sister. It was Cynthia speaking. "Zedd, she's waking."

"I'm coming, dear."

There was the shuffle of feet and sound a large hand was covering her forehead. He sighed and leaned back, but the faint feeling of his touch lingered. "The fever is gone. Thank the spirits she was not taken from us."

"Was it that elixir we had her take?" Cynthia inquired, concern dripping from her voice.

"No, no," another voice replied, regal and noble. "The elixir merely compelled her body to expel what was foreign to it."

"You mean inducing birth, Nathan," came a stern voice, followed by a soft cry, and some gentle cooing.

"Yes, yes," Nathan huffed. "An infant is a foreign being living within the mother, so my assert was still correct."

"Shh," came Cynthia's hushed voice. "Please, keep it down. Don't agitate her. If you can't behave they I'll be forced to ask the Mord'Sith to escort you out… again."

Kahlan blinked, the world around her a blur. But everything was clearer now. She could hear their voice, distinguish between them. She sighed, relief flooding through her veins as she basked in the knowledge that she was surrounded by people she knew. People who cared about her. They were all her. Well, all except one. Her husband, the love of her live and father of her children. He was not here, despite all her wishes and hopes. Life had made that impossible.

Children. Oh, spirits, she'd blacked out when her second child had emerged. She hadn't looked upon her face yet, didn't know her. The terrifying thought of not knowing her child was enough to pull her out of the dark depth of unconscious and fully into an alert state.

"Kahlan!" Cynthia gasped, her hand clenching hers.

She smiled at her twin, and clutched her hand, returning the comforting squeeze. Her eyes settled on the small bundle cradled soundly in her twin's other arm. Her baby. Richard's baby. Sighing, she glanced up to see Zedd sitting on the other side, smiling down at her with a grandfatherly air about him.

"Welcome back, dear one," he spoke softly, caressing her forehead with his wrinkled hand, his smile widening.

She smiled back. "How…?" her voice was slow and sluggish, hoarse from all the screaming she'd down during childbirth.

"Hold on," Zedd eased her, turning to beckoning the maidservant over. He took a goblet from her and brought it towards Kahlan's lips, cradling the back of her head with his hand as he helped her take a sip of the cool and refreshing liquid.

Feeling better, Kahlan swallowed and licked her lips before trying to speak again. "How long was I out?" she asked, her voice still strained, but better.

"Just over two hours," he informed her.

"My babies?"

"Both fine, my dear," Zedd said, but he looked hesitant, his lips pursed together and he glanced up at Cynthia for a second before returning his gave to her. "Healthy and safe."

Kahlan nodded and slumped back into the pillows, starring up at the wisteria climbing along the ceiling. She could hear them now, her two babies, both softly cooing. Cynthia had one, but where was the other. She arched her neck up and looked down towards the foot of the bed, spying Jennsen, Richard's sister, holding her one of her nieces in her arms, smiling down at the little babe.

"Twins," she mumbled, chuckling softly, still amazed by it. "I gave birth to twins."

"Yes," Cynthia smiled. "A beautiful baby girl, and a such a handsome baby boy."

"BOY!" Kahlan shot up, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt the dark tendrils of horror wrap around her throat. "BOY!"

Cynthia jumped slightly, in surprise, and the infant in her arms started bawling it's little head off. Kahlan's eyes flicked back and forth between Jennsen and Cynthia, and the little bundles in her arms, trying to deduce which one was holding the boy… the… dear spirits, she'd given birth to an abomination. She remembered Shota's warning, the one that said she'd give birth to a male child. Kahlan had shrugged the notion away, believing it impossible. Sure, her Dennee had given birth to a male, but that was still highly rare.

"Wait…," she shook her head, feeling dizzy.

"Take it ease, Kahlan," soothed Zedd. "You're still bound to be a little lightheaded from your ordeal."

"Zedd," she sobbed. "A boy? A BOY!"

"I know, dear one," he replied, his voice sad and remorseful.

"What? I… I don't understand," Cynthia said. "Surely a boy is a good thing. Richard will have an heir."

"No," Kahlan shook her head as tears prickled at the corner of her vision. "Cynthia, you… you don't understand."

"Tell me, then?" her twin pleaded.

"A confessor cannot have a male child," Kahlan choked out. "Males… they… they cannot handle the burden of being a confessor. They become blood thirsty, lustful, and abuse their powers in the most horrible of ways." She slumped down into the pillows, quietly sobbing for the fate of one of her own blood. Richard was not here to convince her otherwise, so she was going to follow tradition… follow the ancient laws passed down to her from the very first confessors. It had to be down. For the sake of everyone. "Cynthia… the boy… he must die."

"WHAT? NO!" Cynthia exclaimed, withdrawing her hand and cradling the small bundle to her chest. Now Kahlan knew who held the male child.

"Yes," Kahlan sobbed. "It grieves me, Cynthia, it does. And I shall mourn for him. But he cannot be allowed to live. If he does… he'd become a monster. And I will not allow that to happen."

"But… but the Chimes," Cynthia protested. "Does he even have magic?"

"They were protected," Nathan spoke up, standing just behind Zedd. "Both, the boy and girl, from within the womb, they were unaffected and untouched by the effects of the Chimes."

"Dear spirits," Kahlan sobbed louder, shifting onto her side as Zedd leaned over and tried to comfort her. Shota's charm had failed. Richard and her had conceived not just one, but two, little miracles, and one was tainted by darkness.

Zedd glanced over at Jennsen, who looked just as confused as Cynthia. The small baby in her arms was crying in distress. He nodded to his granddaughter, and Jennsen stepped forward as he leaned back. Kahlan blinked and wiped at her eyes, taking the baby from Jennsen and soothing it with her hands and lips, murmuring softly to it. Her girl. The only one that would live.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered over and over again to her child, apologizing to her for what was going to have to happen to her twin brother. Kahlan clutched her daughter to her chest, caressing the soft fine hairs on the infant's crown. Her watery eyes glanced over at Cynthia.

"No," Cynthia shook her head, tears streaking down her face. "I… I will not let you kill my nephew."

"He much die, Cynthia," Kahlan murmured dejectedly, wrought with inner turmoil.

"No," her twin was definite. She shifted the child in her arms, unfolding the swaddling around him. "Look at him."

"I can't," Kahlan turned her eyes away, refusing to give in. She could not, would not, look up on the face of her son. It was hard enough knowing that he had to die; it would be even harder if she allowed herself to become attached. Kahlan had made that mistake with Dennee's son. She would not do it with her own.

"Look, damn you! Look!" Cynthia shouted, startling everyone in the room.

"Cynthia, please?" Kahlan begged. "Don't make me. I… I can't handle the pain of it."

"If you're going to condemn him to death, the least you can do is sear his face into your memory!" raged her sister.

Kahlan shuddered. Spirits, she didn't know what to do. She felt like such a hypocrite condemning her son to death for simply being born. It was a horrible fate, a horrible thing to make a mother do, but she was relying on centuries of teachings by the Confessors. They knew dangers of a male confessor, of what harm such a child could do. Legend said that a male confessor did not confess for the purpose of justice and truth, but to accumulate followers and devotees… slaves that would do his every biding, no matter how deprave.

Kahlan knew first hand what a normal man did when he had access to obedient confessors. Her own father had used her and her sister to confess people and then order them to do her father's bidding. She shivered in self-loathing, remembering when she had confessed a woman and then ordered her to her father's bed.

"Look!" Cynthia cried. "If you have any shred of humanity left in your body, you must look at him!"

She blinked and without intending it, glanced up at her sister. Her gaze fell on the small chubby face of her son. Kahlan's sharp intake of breath filled the room, silencing all other noise. Her lower lip quivered. Dear spirits, he looked just like his father. He had Richard's eyes, his nose, and his chin. Her son. Richard's son.

Her vision grew blurry as tears washed out. She heaved in ragged gasps of air. Dear spirits, why did he have to be so perfect, so wonderfully beautiful, just like his father? Kahlan sobbed, retching breathes tearing through her soul. Her daughter, still clutched to her sagging chest, cried, feeling her mother's anguish and misery.

"I'm sorry, Cynthia, but I can't," she murmured, shaking her head between canting sobs. "He still must die."

"NO! NO!" Cynthia screamed, jumping up and holding the wailing infant to her chest.

"I'm so sorry," Kahlan cried, hanging her head in self-loathing. She sniffled and listened to Cynthia pleas, and Creator forgive her, she had to ignore them. She felt like the Keeper himself, turning her head, her confessor's mask on, as she sought out the eyes of Captain Zimmer, commander of the First File in Meiffert's stead. "Kill him… you must… for the sake of us all."

Zimmer's eyes dropped and he gulped, but he steeled with determination and bowed his head. "Yes, Mother Confessor," he murmured, clutching the hilt of a dagger and retching it from its sheath. He held the blade out and advanced towards Cynthia.

"NO!" Cynthia yelled.

She spun around, startling a cautious Zimmer, who was trying only to do his duty and follow orders. Kahlan knew he would not harm Cynthia, and only wanted to take the child from him. Cynthia dodged all attempted to capture and hold her and soon, she was free. All the soldiers of the First File stood there, deaf and dumb, unsure of what to do. Cynthia, cried, clutching the child to her breast and ran… and ran... and was gone.

Zimmer halted, uncertain, and turned back to Kahlan, who was doubled over, grasping at her daughter, sobbing controllably. He swallowed, not knowing what to do.

"Mother Confessor?"

Kahlan gasped, her chest heaving as she blinked through the tears, trying to regain control over her emotions. But it was impossible. She'd just condemned her child to death. She shook her head, glancing up at Zedd for help.

He sighed, but relented, giving her a nod and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. He stood, his old bones aching. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath, and then faced Captain Zimmer as the First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander.

"Follow her," he commanded. "Do what must be done."

Zimmer's brow creased with understanding, and he bowed his head, saluting and then brusquely issuing out orders.

Through the haze of her tear clouded vision, Kahlan watched as the men of the First File unsheathed their swords and charged after her fleeing sister, their goal to kill Richard's son. Some of the Mord'Sith, led by Nyda, also followed. Kahlan looked away, allowing her grief to consume her. She wept for her child, her son...  _their_  son. "Oh, Richard… I'm so sorry," she cried. "Please… please forgive me." And then she deteriorated into racking sobs of guilt and sorrow.


	62. Warnings

The wind was harsh and cold. If Richard were a believer in signs and portents, he would have considered it a warning. But he was not. So he took it for what it was, just bad weather.

Gritting his teeth against the onslaught of icy wind, Richard tugged his cloak tighter around his body, trying to use the hood to shield his face. His lungs already ached from inhaling the freezing air, and his legs were growing numb with all the climbing. Glancing behind him, he briefly pondered how Cadelf was doing. He was old, a monk and scholar, probably not used to all the hiking. But when he looked back, the elder monk seemed to be doing just fine, walking steadily behind Cara, his cowl up, and habit tucked snuggly around his frame.

As for Cara, her expression was neutral, gave nothing away, merely staring off into the grey horizon with a flat stoic stare.

Richard shifted his boots in the loose gravel beneath his feet as he trudged onward, continuing up the slope of the Rang'Shada Mountains. He could see patches of snow here and there, with some wiry weeds sprouting up between some rocks, fighting with all their might for what little sunlight they could reach, which wasn't really that much to begin with. There were even a few wild flowers that dared to grow at this high altitude.

He paused at one brush, amazed to see some purple berries. Cara came up behind him, letting out a breath of annoyance at the stop.

"We should keep going, Richard," she said, shouting over the howling wind.

Looking back at her, he inclined his head, before returning his attention to the berries. Cadelf puffed up alongside him and grinned merrily.

"Ah, frostbites!" the monk enthused, pushing past Cara to pick a few from the brush, popping them into his mouth. Richard and Cara stared at him in utter amazement. He swallowed and smiled. "Their like elderberries. We grow them around the monastery at Obentan. They are quite good. We should pick some for later."

Richard nodded and began doing so. Cara eyed them warily, before plucking one plump berry and cautiously tasting it. Satisfied that it would do no harm, she too helped to collect a batch, dumping them into an empty leather pouch.

Now with some snack for later, the troupe continued on, trudging up the mountain slope. The hike continued until nightfall. When the sun began to set, Cara scouted ahead, and was able to locate a cluster of rocks that stacked high enough to offer some shelter from the blistering cold and wind. By the time Richard had a fire going, flurries had already begun to fall.

Cara shivered and tugged a blanket out of her pack, wrapping it over her shoulders. She hunched down near the fire and rubbed her hands together before blowing on them and holding them out to the flames. Cadelf chuckled slightly, and she shot him a seething glare.

"Sorry, Cara, guess I forget that you're used to the deserts of D'Hara," the monk said, shifting on his bedroll, still tucked up nice and cozy in his habit and cloak. He pulled the book they'd found under Mount Aydin in the hidden place Alric Rahl had constructed for his one and true heir.

Richard glanced up from poking the fire with a stick, catching the gilded words along the book's red-leather cover glittering in the flickering light of the flames:  _Kai'taug_.

Throughout their journey south, heading for the Ovens, Brother Cadelf had been familiarizing himself with the text within the old tome. Richard would have tried reading it himself, but it was written in Darah, the old tongue that had preceded High D'Haran. Cadelf was one of the few who knew how to read it.

"Learn anything yet?" Richard asked.

Cadelf's grey eyebrows came together in a frown. "Not on the subject we need. No," he informed them. "However, there have been several references to  _Tes'vorgo_."

" _Tes'vorgo_?"

"Yes, the End Times," Cadelf's scowled down at the book. "However, that's a very rough translation."

Richard chewed on some of the berries they'd collected earlier and narrowed his eyes, thinking on that. "Is it related at all to what's going on now?"

"Possibly," Cadelf hedged, sounding cautious to make a firm declaration on the subject. "I will know for sure once I've read more."

Richard gave a nod, and slumped back onto his bedroll, letting the man get to it. He glanced over at Cara and watched the Mord'Sith shudder in the chilly breeze. She caught his gaze and narrowed his eyes.

"I hate the cold," she growled, before turning her back to him and curling up in a ball on the padding of her bedroll.

He turned away, letting his eyes settle on the fire. For a while now, Richard had been feeling this strange sense of foreboding, as if something bad was going to happen or had happened. He'd remember a little about his past, and what he did remember, pained him. His first time with Kahlan had been forced, with her believing he was someone else, taking her against her will. But then… she'd responded to him, but still thinking he was someone else, and had reached completion. The horror and hurt that had strummed through his body when that had happened still felt raw and real, as if it had occurred only the other day. But it hadn't. That had been more than a year ago.

The wind howled, and he shivered, not from the cold, but from that foreboding feeling again. It swept over him like a gentle breeze, squeezing into all the crevices and small places. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he could swear that the howl was more than just the wind.

Cara suddenly shot up, eyes wide in alert, hands clutching the daggers that had replaced her agiels. "Was that a wolf?" she asked, her voice on the edge of fright.

Cadelf looked up from his book. "I don't think so, Madam Mord'Sith."

She gritted her teeth, rounding on the monk with a heated glare. "I told you to stop calling me that!" she snarled.

The monk smirked, his ice blue eyes dancing with mirth. Obviously he was having too much fun with it to stop. "Aye, that you have,  _madam_ ," he emphasized that last part, much to Cara's annoyance.

She pointed a threatening finger at him. "You're lucky magic is gone, old man," she spat out. "Otherwise you'd face my agiel!"

" _Shh_!" Richard interrupted their bickering. He was sitting up now, his eyes wide.

"What is it?" Cara asked, her voice still holding that irritated hint, but softened.

"I thought I heard something?"

"It's just the howl of the wind," Cadelf tried to reassure them.

"No, not that…," Richard's voice trailed off as he narrowed his eyes, staring off into the bleak blackness of the surrounding mountainside. "It was something else."

"The Chimes?" Cara questioned, shifting anxiously. Richard could understand, their last encounter with those magical beings had not been pleasant.

He shook his head. "No."

Slipping his hand down to his waist, he gripped the hilt of his sword, wishing that it could still strum with the beat of magic as it once had. It still functioned as the Sword of Truth, but its power had been greatly diminished since the release of the Chimes. Pushing his cloak off, Richard jumped to his feet, ready to face the unseen foe that was out there, lurking in the darkness.

"Richard?" Cara called out, trying to stay him. He didn't need to look to know she was now standing, matching his stance.

He ignored her. His innate tracking senses taking over. Hooking his fingers tighter around the handle of the Sword of Truth, Richard stormed off into the dark to face whatever was out there.

XXX

Her breaths were coming out in pants, and her chest ached from heaving so desperately to fill her lungs, but she couldn't stop. She had to keep going. After everything she had experienced and seen, she would not let this happen. Not to an innocent babe.

The moment Kahlan had sobbed out the command to have the child killed, Cynthia had known what she had to do. She didn't like it, but it was what was necessary. She reasoned that Kahlan wasn't in her right mind, especially after the early and difficult birth. Her judgment was clouded, and her orders could not be taken seriously. However, that did not stop the First File, or the Mord'Sith for that matter, from doing as commanded by the Mother Confessor, wife of the Lord Rahl.

So, she ran. She ran hard and fast, cradling her newborn nephew to her chest as she fled through the dark halls and corridors of the People's Palace, searching for a safe haven from the horrors of the world she'd found herself in.

The pounding of boots followed behind her, echoing off the cold stone. Cynthia risked a glance over her shoulder, catching sight of the red leather of the Mord'Sith as Nyda took the lead. It was a frightening sight, seeing a sea of crimson and black. The flutter of capes and clatter of chainmail mixed with the creak of leather as her pursuers picked up the pace, steadily matching hers.

Darting to the left, Cynthia skidded to a halt, and turned sharply, banging her shoulder into one of the doors. The hinges groaned in protest, but the hard wood gave wall, opening up enough for her and the baby to slide through. She quickly slammed the door shut, and bolted the lock. She didn't know how long it would hold them off, but she needed a moment to regroup and actually thinking about what she was doing.

Her chest expanded and contracted as she heaved in deep gulps of breath. Looking around, she found the chamber to be dark with just a slit for a window on the opposite side. She leaned against the stone wall to give herself a moment of rest, and to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark.

To be honest, Cynthia really didn't understand what was so bad about a male child. She had always thought that men wanted sons, and that their wives wanted to give them sons. But the look on Kahlan's face when she'd discovered that she had given birth to a son was like nothing Cynthia had ever seen. It was a kind of horror mixed with sorrow and grief and despair. Kahlan truly was terrified of the child, which was confusing. All Cynthia knew was that she had to protect the baby. She'd seen too much death, too much suffering, to allow any more… especially when the targeted victim would be her nephew.

The baby let out sharp little gasps, wiggling in her arms. Cynthia clutched it to her chest, placing the infant's head near her heart. She ran her fingers soothingly down the back of his head, cooing softly, trying to calm him.

"It's all right, little one," she whispered into the dark. "You're safe with me. I'll protect you."

Just then a loud pounding began from the door. And voices shouted for her to open it. Cynthia jumped away from the door and blew out a breath of worry. She scanned the room she'd locked herself in, searching for a way out that did not involve the door she'd used to enter. Squinting in the dim lighting, she finally saw it—a winding stairwell dropping down into the stone floor.

Flying away from the wall, Cynthia nearly jumped down the steps, two at a time. She had to be careful, though, since it was damp and cold, providing from the occasional patch of mildew growing along the flat stone slabs. If she didn't pay attention, she might slip and fall, and that would surely result in not only her death, but the child's as well.

Above her, Cynthia could hear the evidence of her pursuers crashing through the locked door. It tumbled down to the floor in a thundering crescendo, the sound resounding down the tunneled stairwell. Soon the reverberation of rushing boots, as the others immediately took off after her down the slick stairs, deafened her hearing. Some mild curses and grunts followed once they discovered the danger of going too fast.

A howl of wind blew past her, and Cynthia stumbled, letting out a startled yell as she careened down the curved stairs, bouncing off the walls and wrapping her arms around the small bundle she held. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the incoming pain. Grunting and huffing, she tumbled down the stairs, the infant emitting a shrill cry as they fell.  _Dear Spirits, protect us!_

She collided against a sidewall with a resounding thud. Dust particles sprinkled down on her as she bounced off it and continued to roll down the stairs. Everything hurt, and her ears felt like they would burst from the high-pitch wailing from the infant, whom she kept tightly clutched to her chest, protecting it as best she could. Cynthia blinked and glanced up, seeing a landing looming in the distance that was coming ever closer. It was a small cessation in the downward spiral of the stairwell, and her only hope to stop her fall.

Tensing up her legs, Cynthia was prepared to use them to end this, when her back bounced off the sharp edge of a stone stair, causing pain to shot up through her spine. She cried out in agony, missing her moment of opportunity. Ramming hard against the landing, Cynthia immediately felt all the air expel from her lungs. A sheering pain flashed across her awareness, followed not long after by nothing but blackness.

XXX

"Richard!" Cara's voice rang out across the slopes, carried further along by the wind.

He lost his footing in a slush of snow and collapsed hard onto his backside. His arms flailed out as he fell, and he lost his hold on the sword. It clattered down to the rocky ground besides him as he fumbled around in the wet snow bank. Twisting his torso, he stretched out and grabbed the pommel, pulling the sword back to his chest and heaving himself up out of the shivering pile of white powder.

"Lord Rahl!" Cadelf shouted, followed not long after by Cara's voice, again calling his name.

Richard groaned, and brushed over the snow from the underside of his trousers, as he tried to get his bearings. He had no idea what he'd been thinking, rushing out into the darkness with no clear path ahead of him.

The wind howled around him, harsh and intimidating, and he narrowed his eyes. He could swear he heard something, but what? He couldn't say. Sighing, he slumped his shoulders in defeat and embarrassment. Turning around, mindful of his footing, he hollered back to his companions, letting them know that he was all right.

Cara was the first to appear out of the mist, her blonde hair whipping around her face like a banshee. "What were you thinking?" she yelled, jabbing her finger into his chest with almost enough force to knock him back onto his backside.

Richard chuckled and shook his head, brushing his hair back as he rammed the Sword of Truth home, back into its scabbard. "Honestly, I don't know," he blushed, again feeling embarrassment over his ill-conceived march into the darkness.

Cara scoffed and rolled her eyes, punching him in the shoulder with an annoyed look before pulling him into a rough embrace. "Don't you do that again, Richard! You hear me?" her voice choked up, and if he hadn't known any better, he would have called it a sob.

Stunned by her show of emotion, Richard hesitantly returned the gesture, patting her back awkwardly before she released him, a glare in her eyes, and a fist tightly wrapped around his arm. Before he could respond, Cadelf was colliding with them. Cara let out a curse as they collapsed into the snow, becoming soaked with the slush. Richard was the first to recover. He stood, shaking his head, and stilled, spying what it was that had distracted Cadelf so much that he had ran into them without noticing.

Standing before them, lit by a halo of moonlight around her auburn hair, was none other than Shota. She was draped in a wispy grey dress that billowed about her in the wind and flurries. A dark brown wolf fur cloak hung on her shoulders, but she let it fall when her almond eyes locked with his.

"Witch!" Cara snarled, jarring him out of his trance as she charged past him, hands reaching for her daggers.

"Cara! No!" Richard called after her, but it was too late.

A tight smile graced Shota's full lips. In a move that was surprisingly fast, the witch woman dodged Cara's assault, sending the Mord'Sith hurtling into a mound of snow. Letting out a disgruntled curse of animosity, Cara pulled herself up and glared at the witch woman.

Shota merely smiled serenely at her, before turning around to face Richard.

"We meet again, Seeker," she said, her eyes skimming his features. "Though not all of you is here."

Richard frowned. "I remember what you've done to me and Kahlan, Shota," he asserted.

"Really?" she laughed lightly, ignoring the seething glare from Cara coming from behind her. "Last I heard you had lost all your memories."

"Some have returned," he hedged, not sure how much he should reveal to the cunning witch woman.

Shota gave him a tight smile, then gracefully knelt down to retrieve her fur cloak, draping it over her shoulders and pulling it around her slender frame.

"Zeddicus is well, I hope," she spoke as she tied the clasp around her long neck.

"Yes, he is," Richard gave a nod, and then knitted his eyebrows together. "Enough small talk, Shota. What do you want?"

"Why would I want something? Isn't it enough that I am simply here, talking with you?" she asked enigmatically.

"Nothing is ever that simple with you, Shota," Richard countered, cautiously watching Cara as the Mord'Sith stalked back to his side. He didn't need Cara making any more rash attacks.

"True enough," Shota relented. "Then I shall get straight to the point, Seeker. The world is at a crossroads. Shift the balance to one side or the other, and the fate of everyone could be decided. We are at a hair's breath from oblivion. You must act, and soon, to restore the balance and prevent the destruction of us all."

"And how do I do that?" he questioned, slowly lowering his hand to the hilt of the Sword of Truth.

Shota's almond eyes flicked down, catching the movement. She smiled at him reassuringly and pointed a long delicate finger past him. "He knows," she declared.

Richard frowned, confused, and looked over his shoulder, seeing Cadelf. The old monk's mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up in bewilderment.

" _Me_ , madam?" he question, cautiously.

Shota gave an airy laugh, her eyes sparkling in a way that Richard did not like. She inclined her head and smiled sweetly at Cadelf. "Yes, you," she replied. "You carry a book with you that holds the answers. And only you can decipher them."

Cadelf tentatively reached into his robes to pull out the book. Shota's eyes lit up with a hungry sheen. Her gaze fixed on the book for several seconds before she lifted her knowing eyes to the Seeker. Her lips twisted up into mysterious smirk.

"Be warned, Seeker," her voice sang out in a light ambiguous tone, somehow adding more weight to her words. "To succeed in the task before you, one of your number must pay a price. What that price is, I cannot say. Only the one who must pay it will know and understand how it shall be paid."

Their eyes were locked, and Richard swallowed thickly. She must be talking about him. He was going to have to pay some sort of price to save the world and those he loved. He knew it. He had always suspected as much. And he was willing to do so. Richard would do whatever he had to. As long as Kahlan and the others survived.

Shota stepped forward, her eyes downcast and mournful. She reached out a hand and lightly caressed Richard's face. "Be brave, Seeker," she murmured. "Your heart shall be tested many times before this is over."

And then, she was slinking back, disappearing into the mist of flurries. Gone.

Cara let out a startled gasp and pulled a dagger from its sheath, skulking forward a step or two. She swung the blade around the space that had once been occupied by the witch woman.

"Where did she go?" she demanded, sneering into the mist.

"Back to the Reach, I would assume," Richard said, tilting his head back to gaze at Cadelf. "Do you know what she meant about the price that is going to have to be paid?"

Brother Cadelf licked his lips nervously, his skin deathly pale. He shook his head, and his eyes flicked up to Richard's. "No, Lord Rahl, I don't," he answered, but there was something in the old man's eyes that made Richard question the truth of those words. He sighed, and decided to let it go… for now.

"She's not to be trusted," Cara proclaimed, her gaze heated and fixed on the spot Shota had once stood. "All lies. Her words are lies."

"It was a warning," Richard said, suddenly realizing it. "She was warning us about what is to come."

Cara frowned and looked at him hesitantly. "How can you be so sure?"

"I don't know, I… I just am."

Letting out a breath, which fogged before her face, Cara inclined her head. "If anyone has to pay a price, it's going to be me," she said. "Nothing can happen to you, Richard."

He swallowed and returned her determined look. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "We don't yet know what the price is," Richard said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Cara nodded her head in agreement before sheathing her dagger and running her fingers through her long blonde hair, pulling it back into a messy ponytail. "I should have had it braided before we left," she muttered as they began the hike back to her camp.

"Why didn't you?" Richard absently replied.

Cara's face heated up in a blush and she averted her eyes. "Ben likes it like this," she said, her voice barely loud enough for Richard to hear her answer.

He pursed his lips and suppressed a smile, happy that Cara had found someone who loved her. She deserved to be happy after the amount of suffering she'd had in her life. They continued on in silence, both oblivious to the faraway look in the eyes of their companion, Brother Cadelf.

XXX

When she opened her eyes again, she was sprawled out on her back in a dark damp cavern, with droplets of water from hanging stalactites tapering down from the ceiling. Cynthia blinked, and let out a groan, feeling a pounding in her head. She tried to sit up, but everything hurt. She clenched her jaw and suppressed the excruciating agony. Her first thought was the baby and its welfare.

Turning onto her side, she spotted him, arms and legs flailing about as he cried his lungs out. With a moan, Cynthia heaved herself up off the ground and stumbled over to him. Dropping onto her knees, she quickly gave his tiny little body a once over for injuries. Thankfully, he looked none the worse for wear, his flushed face and piercing cries the only evidence of his distress. Scooping him up in her arms, Cynthia used a nearby stalagmite for leverage as she pulled herself up off the rocky scree and debris around them.

She arched her neck and peered upwards, to the only source of light, realizing that the stairwell landing must have given way, dropping them down into this underground cavern. Cynthia turned her attention back to the baby, gently caressing his soft head as she tried to soothe him. He babbled and cried, but eventually settled down and nuzzled his head against her chest, his mouth opening and closing against her breast.

Cynthia lowered her eyebrows in sympathy. "I know, you're hungry, but I'm not your mother, sorry baby," she cooed softly, placing a kiss on his little forehead. He whimpered quietly and squirmed in her arms as she turned around, finally taking in her surroundings.

The cavern she was in opened up into a larger one, and she slowly walked forward. Tunnels, cut into the rock, branched out in all directions, and it was not long until she discovered where she was. It was the catacombs, the ancient tombs buried underneath the city. Niches were carved into the rock, some empty, some filled. She could see the bones of the ancient D'Harans who had been laid to rest and interred down here. Some even still had hair and beards, thin and scraggly, but still there.

The catacombs were like a labyrinth. If she weren't careful, she'd get lost. But before she could fully process what she was going to do, Cynthia heard the sounds of boots hitting the rocks behind her. The baby let out a high-pitched cry, giving their position away.

"That way!" she heard a gruff voice shout.

"Shh," Cynthia cooed the infant, clutching him to her chest as she picked up the pace, running through the narrow crypts as fast as was safe.

"CYNTHIA!" Nyda, the Mord'Sith, called out her name, pleading with her. "DON'T RUN."

She shook her head to the command, not willing to obey. Digging her feet into the hard dirt, she pushed herself forward, bumping her shoulder against a corner as she turned. She tried running in a serpentine pattern, zigzagging around the various niches, filled and otherwise.

Taking a corner too sharply, Cynthia tripped over a rock and stumbled for a couple paces, before screeching to a halt in the center of a wide chamber. The orange glow of torches lit the vaulted ceiling, decorated in stucco. She glanced around and saw that soldiers and Mord'Sith covered all the other passageways. She spun around, intent on going back the way she came, but she came face to face with Nyda.

The Mord'Sith held up a hand, cautiously approaching her like she would a frightened dog. "Cynthia, please stop. There is nowhere for you to go. Hand over the child."

Cynthia shook her head, tears sprinkling down her cheeks.

"Cynthia," urged Nyda. "Don't make me use force."

Behind her, Cynthia could hear the soldiers of the First File unsheathing their swords, just in case they needed them. She glanced over her shoulder and stumbled back, fumbling with the bundle in her arms. She was not going to give them her nephew.

"What the—?" Captain Zimmer stumbled back, the flame on his torch crackling and bursting as it intensified.

Cynthia squinted her eyes, watching in astonishment as every torch began to do the same. The soldiers sputtered and cried out, dropping their torches as the fires began to consume the wood. A foul wind swept through the chamber, pulling dust and debris into the air. A funnel of particles materialized around Cynthia. Her eyes grew wide and fearful, not understanding what was going on. It looked like magic, but that was impossible. There was no more magic left in the world.

"Cynthia!" Nyda shouted over the din, her arms outstretch. "Jump to me!"

She shook her head, too afraid to do anything. A cracking sounded above her and the stucco-ceiling fell away as large stalactites descended through the crumbling facades, raining white plaster down on them all. Cynthia pulled the baby closer to her breast, shielding him from the falling debris. He began to cry, loud and high, a terrible wail.

"Shh, don't worry, I got you," Cynthia tried to soothe him, but he kept crying, squirming about as the world crumbled around them.

Thick fat droplets of water dripped down on them from the points of the stalactites, and her nephew only cried harder, his tiny face flushing with the strain of it. She caressed him, trying to shush him, but he was too overwhelmed.

"Dear spirits!" she exclaimed as she noticed him beginning to glow.

She raised terrified eyes and glanced up at Nyda. The Mord'Sith's eyes were as wide as saucers, her mouth hung open in stunned silence. Cynthia turned her attention back to the baby as he began to struggle, his tiny legs kicking and his arms flailing about. It was like he was writhing in pain.

The strange manifestation of light intensified, making the infant glow even brighter. It was so intense that Cynthia had to squint to protect her vision from being blinded by the light. Soon water was falling in streams down off the tips of the stalactites, pooling around her feet, moving on its own. It circled around her, containing both her and the child within its circumference.

Flecks of golden light materialized around her in an unearthly aura of color. The flames danced up into the air, spiraling around and hovered across the chamber much to the horror and stupefaction of the soldiers and Mord'Sith, who all shrunk back in terror.

"It's the Chimes of Death!" someone hollered over the cacophony of noise.

A strange ethereal hum floated through the air around them as the flames skipped along the floor, meeting the circle of water and then sprouting up towards the ceiling in a fiery inferno. Cynthia clutched the baby to her and screamed as the cyclone of wind swirled around them, pulling her off the ground and into the air. The baby's wails reached a crescendo and then silenced, followed by a damp coldness that invaded almost every surface in the chamber. Frost instantly materialized on the ground and walls.

The wind vanished, and Cynthia was dropped to the ground. Her legs buckled and she collapsed, crying out as she fell. The baby was silent, and her fears began to run rampant with worries. She shifted, pulling him out of the swaddling cloths. His eyes blinked and he looked up at her, sated and calm. Cynthia quickly ran her fingers over his brow, his arms, legs, and chest. She pressed her palm flat against him and released a breath when she felt his tiny heartbeat.

"What just happened?" Nyda's voice rang out in the stillness.

There was one final wisp of air, particles danced around the room, breezing past Cynthia, and she could have sworn it felt like someone was caressing her cheek. But then it was gone. The flames dimmed back to there normal illumination, and water stopped sprinkling down from the intruding stalactites.

Cynthia laid on the floor, breathing heavily, not knowing what had just happened, yet fearful of doing anything.

And then came a thunderous boom. A wall exploded outward, knocking several soldiers and Mord'Sith down. Debris littered the floor; dust and rocks tumbled about. Cynthia coughed in the aftermath, narrowing her eyes and holding the baby to her breast.

"Intruders!" Captain Zimmer shouted in alarm.

Swords were unsheathed, and there was a flurry of activity. Cynthia was yanked to her feet, and her heart rate rocketed up until she saw Nyda's eyes.

"Behind me, now!" the Mord'Sith commanded.

Cynthia did as she was told, positioning herself behind Nyda. Several Mord'Sith fanned out around her as the clamor of fighting drifted over to them. She could hear screams and cries, bone crushing noises. It sounded like a battle. And then Nyda was being flung aside. Two Mord'Sith rushed forward, blocking Cynthia's view, but they were struck down. A large broad blade, glistening with blood had sliced them in half.

Huge brutish men appeared before her, grabbing at her. Their teeth yellowed and rotting. Their breath stank, and their handling of her was rough. She tried to fight them off, but they were too strong. And she was still cradling her nephew to her chest. They pulled her to the other side of the room, by the collapsed wall. A tall man with leather armor and a brown cloak stood there, a kneeling Captain Zimmer before him.

Cynthia's breath caught in her throat as she saw the beaten and bloody captain of the First File. His eyes darted up to her and he winced as the man behind him gripped his hair and pulled his head back.

"Where is the Lord Rahl?" the tall man with the beard and leather jerkin demanded. His tone was terse yet calm and stern. This man was a commander. He stood with the bearing of someone important.

Zimmer glared up at the man and spat blood at him. The man stepped back and growled low in his throat. The commander's eyes flicked up to the man behind Zimmer, and he nodded.

Without warning, a large serrated knife swept down and savagely cut through Zimmer's throat. Cynthia cried out in horror as the captain convulsed, blood flowing out of the ghastly cut before he went limp. The captain's executioner released his hold on his hair, and Zimmer collapsed, face first, into the rubble from the fallen wall, dead.

"General Vicck, sir!" the man by her right called out. And at the same time, the brute holding her snarled, "Look what we found, General!"

The large man—General Vicck—slowly turned to face them. His expression was hard and unemotional, which terrified Cynthia even more, given what she'd just witnessed. And from his bearing and standing, not to mention the markings on his armor, she recognized him as being of the Imperial Order. This was not good. Not good at all.

Vicck's calculating eyes narrowed as he took her in. His brow was bathed in a sheen of sweat. He raised his arm, as he wiped his forehead, and beckoned them closer. "Let me look at her," the general spoke in a low and commanding voice. "Bring her into the light."

The men obeyed and hauled her forward.

The commander scratched his beard and examined her. "Long hair, white dress… and what's this…," he reached out and yanked on her arm. Cynthia resisted, but he tightened his fingers around her forearm and his nails dug into her flesh. Her eyes watered in pain and she released the tension in her arm, letting him pull it back, revealing the bundle in her arms. "A baby." He squinted in the dim light. "A newborn, by the look of it."

"Sir?"

"It's the Mother Confessor," Vicck grinned, his large fingers clamped around her jaw, directing her face up, so he could get a better look at her features. "I've seen her once before, from afar, but I'd recognize her anywhere."

"What was she doing down here in the catacombs?" one of his subordinates questioned, looking hesitant.

"Isn't that obvious, you fool! Trying to escape," the general snarled and shot him a glare.

The subordinate cowered away, wincing as if preparing to be struck. Vicck turned back to Cynthia, ignoring the fool, and smiled down at her like he was her long lost friend. He ran his fingers through her long lush hair and sighed.

"It's a pity I'm going to have to give you to him," he murmured. "He doesn't know how to appreciate a beauty like you… such a waste." Vicck tightened his grip around her forearm and yanked it further back, scooping the baby from her arms.

She cried out and lunged forward, trying to get her nephew back, but the guards held her firmly in place. Vicck cradled the infant in his arm and looked down at it, his eyebrow raised in surprise. "A male confessor!"

"Leave him alone!" she cried out, tears falling down her cheeks.

Vicck looked up at her with a smirk. "No wonder you were on the run, Mother Confessor," he shook his head at her. "Well, no need to fear now, you're coming with us."

He signaled to the men holding her with a jerk of his head, and then she was being swept through the gaping hole in the wall, towards the horror and doom that was the Imperial Order.


	63. A Woeful Fate

She woke with a start, her dreams dark and foreboding. Above her were the hanging branches of some tree, lush and full of life. The leaves were still a healthy green hue, and the bark dark and rich… almost chocolate. It reminded her of her husband's eyes. Dark and warm… with golden flecks. Oh… how she missed Richard.

Kahlan heaved in a deep breath, stifling the rising sob that wanted out. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, holding the sob back. She was not going to cry. No. Not right now. The world was coming apart at the seams, she couldn't afford to waste any time dwelling on things that could not be change.

"Mother Confessor?"

The voice pulled her out of her brooding. Arching her neck, carefully turning onto her side, Kahlan found Egan and Ulic, the two gentle D'Haran giants, Richard's and her first allies amongst the soldiers of D'Hara. Egan wore a concerned expression, as did Ulic. Both had sworn to look after her while Richard, their Lord Rahl, was away on his mission to stop the Chimes.

"Mother Confessor?" the gentle giant of a man tried again.

Exhaling softly, Kahlan shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Water?"

Egan immediately left his post, stooping down next to the table beside her. With slow and deliberate movements, he poured clear chilled water from a pitcher into a goblet, handing it to her when it was filled. Kahlan accepted with a small smile, taking careful sips of the cool liquid.

Lowering the goblet, she wetted her lips with a flick of her tongue. "Where's my baby?"

"Lady Jennsen is looking after the baby girl, Mother Confessor," Egan spoke softly with a nod of his head.

"Zedd?"

"The First Wizard and the Prophet are on the balcony, observing the movements of the enemy camp below," Egan informed her, taking the cup away from her when she held it up, refilling it before he returned it.

Kahlan inclined her head and, with some assistance from the soldier, sat up, propping her back against the cushions of the divan that had been brought into the Garden of Life for her to rest on.

"Should I fetch the wizard?" Egan inquired.

She gave a brief nod. "Yes… please. And I want my daughter."

Egan bowed his head reverently. "As you command, Mother Confessor."

The gentle giant rose to his full height and disappeared behind a wall of tall ferns. Ulic remained at his post, blue eyes ever watchful and alert. Kahlan sighed and leaned back into the cushion, occasionally taking in more sips of the cool water. Just as she was beginning to relax, a noise broke through the calm, announcing the imminent arrival of the First Wizard. His puffing pants were unmistakable.

"Dear one, your awake!" Zedd enthused, coming into view, his robes bustling about him as he strode over to her. Taking her delicate hand into his large weathered ones, Zedd leaned down to place an affectionate kiss on her brow. "How are you, Kahlan?"

"Better, more alert," she gave a nod, before swallowing down some of the worry creeping up into her chest. "Zedd? The babies… one of them was a boy."

Zedd's features dropped and he nodded gravely. "Yes, I'm afraid so, dear one."

Kahlan sniffled and pulled back, wrapping her arms around her chest. "Zedd… I… I ordered his death, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Zedd confirmed, running his hand calmly down the back of her head, trying to soothe her.

"What a terrible mother I am!" she asserted on a puff of air. "To do such a thing. Order the death of my own son."

Zedd pursed his lips. "You did what you had to, Kahlan," he assured her. "We all know the dangers a male confessor holds."

She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly against the wash of threatening tears, her cheeks warmed with shame. "Richard is going to hate me," she murmured in a small dejected voice. "He'll hate me."

"Aw… Kahlan, dear one," Zedd soothed. "No. Never. That boy loves you with all his heart. He could never hate you."

"Well, he can dislike me," Kahlan shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she continued to ponder over Richard's reaction to her decision. "He wouldn't let us do the ritual with Dennee's son. He certainly would not allow it with ours… with his own son."

Zedd frowned, seemingly at a lack of words to calm her bereaved heart. Kahlan hugged herself tighter, feeling unworthy of any and all affection and attention. She didn't know how she'd face Richard when he returned. All she could think of was Cynthia's reaction and how Richard's would be ten times that.

There was a commotion from beyond the lush foliage. Kahlan jerked her head up, hearing the sounds of the large doors banging open with force. The sounds of rushing boots filled the garden, and soon a large contingent of the First File was flowing in, creating a protective circle around her. Zedd straightened up and turned towards one of the lieutenants as he came up to salute them.

"Lieutenant Ryger," the wizard said. Kahlan squinted her eyes, trying to place the face with the name. It was difficult. A lot of D'Harans looked the same. All of them were blond and blue-eyed. And all the soldiers wore their hair in a uniformed style. "What is going on?"

Ryger looked stone-faced and alert. "We've had a breach in the lower portions of the palace," he informed them, pausing momentarily to bow his head in Kahlan's direction. "Commander Barden is taking some of the palace guards and patrolling the corridors. Rikka and the Mord'Sith have ventured down into the lower dungeons. There were some reports that one of the stairwells had a gapping hole in the wall and some caves were found underneath."

"The Catacombs," it was Berdine. The buxom Mord'Sith was pushing her way through the First File to come stand by Kahlan's side.

The young lieutenant raised his eyebrows. "Yes… I believe that's what the reports suggest."

Berdine looked worried.

"Berdine, what is it?" Kahlan asked.

"Long ago, the ancient D'Haran lords were buried under the People's Palace," Berdine explained. "The Catacombs are vast and extensive, going out for miles in all directions."

She frowned. "So you're saying that this breach most likely came from there?"

"Precisely," Berdine nodded. She pinched her nose up in thought.

Kahlan gasp sharply when the Mord'Sith's rosy complexion turned ashen. "What is it?"

"Nyda and Captain Zimmer…," Berdine began. "I hear that some of them headed that way, chasing after—"

"Cynthia," Kahlan finished, feeling her heart constrict with worry and fear. "My sister."

XXX

Darkness. It surrounded her. Binding her. Leaving her blind to the world around her, but not to her fate. The moment the Imperial Order took her, she knew what her fate would be. And she was not afraid. Not for herself. Her fear was for the newborn son of her sister. His tiny wails still lingered in her ears. As soon as they had taken her out of the catacombs and blindfolded her, the baby had been wrenched from her grasp.

So, she feared for his safety. When she had run away, it had been to keep him safe, but now it appeared his destiny was not what she wished. She knew what the Imperial Order did. During Cynthia's previous captivity under the hands of the Order, she had endured so much pain and suffering that she was now numb to it. At least, that's what she hoped.

She wasn't going to pray to the good spirits. The Spirits had done nothing for her before, so why should she expect them to do anything now?

Back then, during her first captivity, Cynthia had suffered through months of horrible rape—and other vile deeds—at the hands of the soldiers. But then, one of the Emperor's retinue noticed her beauty. Whether her transfer to the Emperor's living quarters was for better or worse was up for debate. Needless to say, she became a servant, and no longer had to endure hours of countless violations of her body and person.

Cynthia had been taken into the gutted out ruins of a former Mord'Sith temple that had once been Lord Darken Rahl's stronghold. It had only taken a little while longer until a wizard in the Emperor's employ noticed her and her similarity to the Mother Confessor. At the time, no one really knew just how close that similarity was. From then on, she had been the wizard's personal sex-slave.

It wasn't as good as being in the tents, but at least she only had to deal with one man. Eventually he was sent away on an important task, but he must have failed, because he never returned—not that she was unhappy about that. The bastard deserved whatever terrible fate befell him for what he did to her all those dark nights in his chambers.

There had been a plot afoot that the Emperor and his retinue of wizards had been working on, something involving a plague of some sort. But it had failed. Cynthia had been a maidservant in the Emperor's personal entourage at the time, and he, upon hearing of the failure of his plans, threatened to take her then, since his lust for the Mother Confessor would not be sated due to the failure of his subordinates.

The Emperor would have taken her to his bed that night if it hadn't been for Sister Bree. The sorceress had already been plotting and scheming, stepped in and offered herself in Cynthia's place, seducing the Emperor and lulling him into sedation, all the while pushing her agenda forward, until the Emperor gave in and Cynthia was hand over to Sister Bree for indoctrination and training.

The dark sorceress's plans had been to use Cynthia to trick the Seeker into sleeping with her, conceiving a child with his gift, the magic of a war wizard. Bree had hoped to manipulate the powerfully gifted offspring into serving the Keeper's ends. But that scheme had failed. And it had nothing to do with Bree. It had all hinged on Cynthia. It was her that had changed the course of the future that evening in the clearing when she chose to abandon the Sister of the Dark's evil designs.

Cynthia had originally been prepared to follow through with Bree's plans. After all, she had nothing else to live for. Her parents were dead, as was her beloved husband. So Cynthia had allowed herself to believe the dogmatic preaching of the Sister of the Dark. But the one thing Bree could not account for was the Seeker. When Cynthia had come face to face with Richard Rahl, her path changed. At first, she had thought she might actually be falling for him, but soon she realized that she wasn't. Not really. She just saw some of her long deceased husband in him.

 _Jared_ …

The thought of her husband broke through Cynthia's ruminations. She let out a deep sob. Spirits, she missed him so much. They had only had one night… one night of bliss before the inferno came in and pulled them asunder. She had been forced to watch him die, tortured for days before he was finally granted the mercy of death. And before that, they had made him watch as soldier after soldier defiled his bride in all the many vile and wicked ways that no decent and honorable man would ever do to a woman.

The manacles shackled to her were cutting into her wrists, now more pronounced than when she shifted. Cynthia gritted her teeth, but could not prevent the pained moan that escape as her senses were overwhelmed with the bite of the cuffs wrapped around her limbs.

"Hello? Someone there?"

The sudden voice was like a stab in the dark, making Cynthia jerk back in shock. A jolt of pain rippled through her arms as the restraints dug further into her skin, fresh warm blood sliding down her raised arms. She sucked in a breath, stifling a groan and blinked hard, still blindfolded and unseeing. Arching her neck and pulling at the manacles clasped around her wrists, she tried to perceive the space around her.

"Who's that?" she hissed out, trying to keep her voice low, not wanting to call the attention of any guards who might be about.

"Kahlan? Is that you?" came a vaguely familiar voice, worried and concerned.

Cynthia frowned, and struggled to concentrate on putting a face and name to the voice. She couldn't place it, but then again, she was still a little dizzy. The guards had been rough with her, and before they whisked her away, she'd been knocked unconscious, only to awaken to find herself chained up in the dark and cold tent. She shifted in the mud, and cleared her throat, sucking in a deep gulp of freezing air.

"Who are you?"

"It's me… Nicci," came the voice.

 _Nicci!_  Cynthia gasped in acknowledgment. She remembered the sorceress, the former Sister of the Dark that had turned against the Keeper to join Richard and Kahlan in their fight against the Imperial Order. Nicci had stayed behind in Aydindril with General Sheldon and the Midlands army. Everyone had assumed they had all perished. Evidently that was not the case.

"Oh, Kahlan, I'm so sorry," Nicci's heartbroken voice drifted through the air. "I… I can't protect you. Spirits know I wish I could, but I… I have no powers anymore. The Chimes have taken them all. We are on our own. The Emperor," her voiced choked up. "He… he has plans for you… and he's been using me as practice."

Cynthia shuddered. She remembered her time with the Emperor. He was a beast of a man, evil incarnate. He'd almost taken her once before, back when his original plan to capture Kahlan had failed. But Bree had stopped him. Shaking her head, Cynthia worked hard not to show her fear, but her voice betrayed her when she spoke.

"Nicci, no… it's…," her voice cracked as she tried to correct the sorceress, but before she could continue, another thought came to her. "The baby? Where's the baby?"

"Gone," Nicci replied, sounding defeated and crushed. "Sister Bree took him. To where? I do not know. But seeing as he is a male confessor, I'm sure Brother Narev would like to inspect him. The Brotherhood has long awaited the day they could get their hands on a confessor. At first, they just wanted you. To use you as breeding stock to produce confessors that they could then indoctrinate and send out to do their bidding. But now…" Her voice trailed off ominously.

Cynthia blinked the tears away. She cared little for her own safety, at the moment more worried for the little infant than herself. "It's all my fault," she choked out. "I shouldn't have run… they said he had to die… I just… I just couldn't let it happen."

"It is the way of things, even if it doesn't make any sense," Nicci replied at length, her voiced lined with sadness and the hint of sudden uncertainty. Cynthia could sympathize. The world had ceased to make sense to her long ago. "You, of all people, Kahlan, should be aware of this."

Cynthia was too tired to even try and explain things to Nicci, to tell her who she really was. Part of her believed it might be best if everyone thought she was Kahlan. It was probably the only way her sister could still be kept safe and protected within the People's Palace.

"I couldn't let him die," Cynthia sobbed, her head lolling forward as the fatigue caught up with her. "He… just came into this world… I… I just couldn't let it happen. He's Richard's son… I… I just couldn't."

She heard Nicci sigh, as if in understanding. "I understand, Kahlan. I do. I really do. Richard doesn't believe in destiny or prophecy. And I know how he'd feel if his child was killed merely because he was born the wrong gender. However, I fear it might have been better for the child—and all of us—if he had died," the sorceress said. "Because now the Order has him."

XXX

Sister Bree stood over the bundle of cloth, gently parting it open and soothingly running her fingers up and down the little pink legs of the wailing infant. General Vicck and his squadron of soldiers had returned from their reconnoiter with an unexpected surprise: The Mother Confessor, and her child… a son. Bree had to contain her enthusiasm when the gruff general handed the child over to her. Out of all the scenarios she'd contemplated, she never believed she would find herself so fortunate enough to have a male confessor at her disposal. Her eternal Father—the Keeper—would be thrilled. If only she had access to her gift so that she might then commune with him.

A sly smile formed across her lips as she gazed down at the child. He gurgled and squirmed, restless. Bree flattened her hand and raised her palm up to his tiny chest, gently caressing his soft flesh with her thumb, rubbing circles. He quieted, making soft cooing noises.

"Hush, little warrior," she murmured softly, her voice holding a quality of awed amazement. "Soon… soon you shall lead us into victory."

The infant tilted his head, his blue eyes staring up at her with innocent curiosity. She smiled back down at him, moving her fingers over his soft skin, soothing him. He needed a change when she first brought him into her tent. Bree had taken to the task with ease, having been around newborns many times during her days as a foolish young acolyte amongst the Sisters of the Light.

Those hypocrite bitches!

Bree sneered at the memory of them. They preached proper morals and respect for all life, but they were all crafty and manipulative. She vivid remembered the day she lost her virginity. The Prelate had recruited an unknowing Bree into the breeding program that the Sisters of the Light operated. Their goal was to produce powerful gifted offspring that they could then control.

Bree hadn't known what was going on until a young wizard came into her chambers one night, expecting her to spread her legs without argument. When she'd put up a fight, the wizard went to the Prelate. That whore then punished Bree, having two palace guards, loyal to the Prelate alone, hold her down as the young wizard deflowered her. It had been rough and painful, and she'd bled.

Afterwards, she'd cried, feeling violated and used. The Prelate had sat besides her, running a hand down her hair and back, murmuring what were obviously intended to be soothing words.  _As if the bitched really cared!_

"You've made a great sacrifice for the Creator today, my child," the Prelate had said. "Let us pray that Jeremiah's seed has taken hold and created life within."

Bree had felt disgusted by the Prelate's indifferent attitude to her suffering. All the Prelate had cared about was whether or not she was with child. When her moonflow came the following week, Bree was subjected to harsh lecturing and put to work in the nursery. It was there that she learned the true purpose of the Sisters of the Light. They did not reach out to young wizards to make them pupils and train them in the arts of the gift. No. The Sisters of the Light would indoctrinate them in their dogmatic beliefs, conditioning them to respond to them and them alone.

She had helped it along. Bree had eventually given birth three times… two girls and one boy. The boy was taken before she could even see him, given to some family far off to raise him until he was of age to return to the Palace of the Prophets and be brainwashed and trained in the gift. Her daughters were taken to the nursery, where all the Sisters would then raise them, communally.

But all that had changed with the rise of the Imperial Order. With the Palace of the Prophet fully under their control, the young—including her two daughters—where now property of the Order, and would be indoctrinated into their narrow dogmatic beliefs. Bree couldn't care less. She had no space in her heart for maternal instincts. If she had ever had them, they had been beaten out off her by the Prelate long ago.

Yet, now… with this little infant, lying so vulnerable and trusting under her hands, Bree felt a tightening in her chest as she thought back on her own offspring… children she'd never know, who would never know her. Furrowing her brow in annoyance, Bree shook her head, ridding her mind of such thoughts. It didn't matter anymore. She'd given up on them a long time ago and focused solely on her duties to her real family… to her eternal father, the Keeper, the only one who truly cared about her.

"It is true," rumbled a deep voice, the wind coming up to chill her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

"Is what true?" Bree questioned, arching an eyebrow as she looked over her shoulder to confirm the face with the voice.

The Emperor gazed back at her with his eyes as black as pits, voids into nothingness and darkness. "Is the infant male?" he spoke, his voice stern and demanding, with a hint of irritation. He wanted to know the answer, and he was annoyed with her for delaying it.

"Yes," Bree answered at length, a slow contumelious smile forming across her face. A challenge. She was keen to discover how he'd react now that he was obsolete. With a male confessor at hand to mold and shape into the Order's instrument, Brother Narev would no longer have any need for Jagang.

She watched as the Emperor stony expression dropped, revealing for the first time a hint of fear. He quickly covered it back up, masking away any emotions that might betray him with a clenched jaw and a sneer.

"He'll make a valuable weapon in our struggle," he drawled out, needing to sound in control. He puffed out his barrel chest, flexed his muscles and then spun around and departed, leaving Bree alone to tend to the infant.

"Don't worry, little one," Bree cooed softly, hovering over the child. "We won't have to worry about him for much longer. You're going to be our shining star. The Keeper's fierce warrior!"

Her gut clenched as an image of a green eyed child with wavy brown hair flashed in her mind's eye. Her son. Her son that was not… never would be. Sighing, Bree bit her lower lip, letting out a soft prayer to the Keeper that these visions of things that would never be vanish from her mind and stop their torment.

XXX

When she next woke up, it was to the sounds of soft murmuring, hushed and urgent. Kahlan sat up slowly, rubbing her forehead, blinking in the dim light. "Zedd?"

"I'm here, dear one," came the old wizard's voice.

Furrowing her brow, she narrowed her eyes in the fresh candlelight, struggling to see him. His wrinkled hand reached out to steady her, landing on her shoulder and giving her a soft comforting squeeze, before he presented her with a goblet filled with chilled water. She accepted with a brief nod of thanks and took a long draft of the cold liquid, sighing with relief. Her throat had been too dry for her liking.

Kahlan had been dreaming. A terrible dream. Cynthia was running through the darkness, chased and hounded on all sides by monstrous figures in black, lashing out at her like snapping dogs. Cynthia wasn't fast enough. The wild dogs got her, and ripped her to pieces, devouring her with little effort. And then… from the dark abyss, came the wails of a little infant, crying for its guardian, its protector.

She knew that it was her son calling for her, but she couldn't move. She was held back, kept motionless by her own inactions and decisions. The snapping dogs, finished with Cynthia, cocked their heads up and darted towards the sounds of the crying babe. Kahlan cried, wailed at her own misery, as the high-pitched cries of the babe ceased, only snarls and yelps of the evil dogs remaining in the blackness.

It had been at that point that she'd awoken to the hushed voices. Instinctively, Kahlan knew that trouble was afoot, that something terrible had happened and that the others were trying to protect her from it.

"Zedd, what's going on?" she asked, handing the goblet back to him.

He took it and set it aside, his hazel eyes darting about anxiously.

" _Zedd_ ," she stressed his name, growing annoyed.

The old wizard sighed, his shoulders slumping. "The search parties found a gaping hole in one of the stairwell's walls," he explained. "They lead into the ancient catacombs."

"Yes, I know," Kahlan frowned. "Berdine told me about that."

"Rikka and Lieutenant Ryger went down into the catacombs, and explored them, searching for any signs of those missing," Zedd informed her, glancing over his shoulder. Kahlan narrowed her eyes, spying Rikka and Ryger standing off in the distance. It was from them that she heard whispering in urgent voices. Verna and Nathan were with them. They all seemed greatly distressed.

"What did they find?"

Zedd remained quiet, looking uncertain.

"Zedd!" she hissed, insistent. "Do not coddle me. I am the Mother Confessor, wife of the Lord Rahl. You will tell me!"

"They found a massacre," Zedd spoke slowly, lowering his eyes. "Captain Zimmer and his men… all dead. The Mord'Sith, what was left of them, were beyond saving. Nyda barely survived, but even she is haunted by what happened."

Kahlan sucked in a shaky breath. Ever since she'd become friends with Cara, Rikka, and other Mord'Sith, she learned about the amount of torture and suffering that went into the training of a Mord'Sith. If Nyda was haunted by what had happened, then it was truly terrible… worse than what horrible deeds had been done to her by her trainers, male and female alike.

"Nyda? How… how is she?" Kahlan questioned, concerned and worried for her friend.

Zedd looked over his shoulder again at the others before returning his grim gaze to Kahlan. He reached out and gently took her hand. "They were set upon by the Order. It was sudden and unanticipated. The battle was over before it started. And before they left, the soldiers… they… they did what they wanted to the women… the Mord'Sith. Nyda, alone, the only one still semi-conscious to have awareness of the depravity done to her."

Kahlan shivered, already feeling sympathy for the horrors Nyda, one of the strongest of the Mord'Sith, had faced. Her heart clenched and she had to control her breathing. Nyda must have true courage if she was still battling to stay alive after suffering through what she had. Most would have given up after such horrors.

She swallowed, unsure of the question she was about to ask, but she had too. "And… Cynthia? What news of my sister?" she inquired, leaving silent the question of her son.

"Taken," Zedd said. "From what Nyda could overhear, it sounds like the Order mistaken her for you."

"Dear spirits," Kahlan moaned, closing her eyes in anguish. There was no question in her mind what fate would await Cynthia at the hands of the Order. Her twin had already been in their clutches once before, but that was different. It would be much worse now that they thought she was the Mother Confessor.

Zedd reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "We'll get her back," he attempted to reassure her. "We'll get her back."

Kahlan closed her eyes as tears spilled out, falling forward into Zedd's grandfatherly embrace, burying her face into his comforting chest. She allowed herself to slip into the agony of grief over the horrid evil that was to be done to her sister. She had no idea what would become of her son, or if he was even still alive. Honestly, Kahlan didn't know how she felt about that. But the pain in her heart was still too heavy for her twin's fate. So, she sobbed, cried it out against Zedd.

The old wizard wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him, his large weathered hands soothingly running up and down her back, trying to calm her.

"Kahlan?"

She choked back a sob, stifling it as best she could while leaning back and flicking her eyes up to the speaker. It was Jennsen. Richard's red-haired sister—the pristinely ungifted—stood there, holding in her arms Kahlan's baby girl. The little one squirmed, mewling softly. Zedd patted her back, before pulling away, leaving the space in front of her open.

"Kahlan," Jennsen called out again, slowly easing into the space Zedd just vacated. "I know you are occupied with a great many things right now, but at the moment, your daughter needs you."

Kahlan blinked and wiped her face with her hands, sniffling. She gave a meek nod, and opened her arms for her daughter. "Daphne," she cooed softly, adjusting the swaddling cloth around the girl's head, her fingers skimming over the soft downy fuzz on her head. "Mommy's here. She loves you. She loves you very much."

The little babe quieted, nuzzling against Kahlan's breast. Closing her eyes, she felt a pang of sorrow that Richard was not here to share these moments. But she was also glad. She had no desire to know how he'd react to what had happened with Cynthia and their son. Her own guilt was overwhelming. She did not know how she could bear his disapproval as well.

" _Daphne_?" Jennsen questioned softly, her voice curious and puzzled.

Kahlan blinked away the threatening tears, sighing at her own emotional reactions. "Yes," she replied, looking up at her sister-in-law. "Before, when we were discussing names, Richard and I decided to name her Daphne. We… we didn't know that I was carrying twins at the time, or that one of them would be a boy."

Jennsen inclined her head slightly, not completely an understanding nod, but showing that she accepted her explanation. Kahlan sighed, adjusting little Daphne in her arms. No one outside of confessors and wizards would truly understand the dangers of a male confessor. She could only pray that she was wrong, and that something could be done, if her son was still even alive.

Kahlan let out a frustrated breath. It was no good to dwell on such matters. His fate, as well as her sister's, was now in the hands of the good spirits.

Daphne let out a demanding little cry and pushed her mouth against Kahlan's breast. "I need to feed her," she said, returning her gaze to Jennsen's. "Will you help me up? I want to find somewhere more secluded."

Richard's sister nodded, offering a hand as she stood up, assisting Kahlan to her feet. Pausing a moment, to give Zedd a grateful nod, and quiet instructions to keep her informed, Kahlan and Jennsen wandered off to tend to Daphne in private.

XXX

Nicci woke with a startled cry, having been dropped violently to the carpet covered ground. She groaned, her hands and legs bound tightly, the ropes digging into her skin. She squirmed, blinking in the soft amber light as she tried to make out her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was listening to Kahlan's soft sobbing in the holding tent, where she was stored in-between her intervals in the Emperor's bed.

Arching her neck, Nicci grimaced, feeling the strain of her muscles. Her neck was bruised, angry red marks evidence of the Emperor's large fingers wrapped around her throat. He was brutal when he took her, violent and unyielding. She'd been raped before, by Darken Rahl and others, so she knew what to expect, having suffered such indignities ever since her first moonflow. However, all of them paled in comparison to the monstrosity that was the Emperor of the Imperial Order.

She did find it amusing, though, that he'd always murmur Bree's name when he reached climax. Did that brute actually believe he was in love with the Sister of the Dark? Still, Nicci found little solace in that. She could still remember the whimpers and strained groans that came from the foot of the bed, where General Sheldon had been forced to watch as the Emperor took her. It broke Nicci's heart that the man she was falling in love with had to witness such evil things and be unable to prevent it.

A noise from outside the canvas flaps called Nicci's attention away from her brooding thoughts. No matter how she longed for the presence of Arwin Sheldon, she was happy he wasn't here now. She wouldn't wish upon him the sight of her being raped yet again.

The cloth flaps covering the opening parted, revealing the hulking form of the Emperor. He trudged inside, bending his shoulders and stretching his thick neck. The sheen of sweat dotted his bald crown, his hand sweeping back over his brow as he narrowed his black, whiteless eyes at her.

"Evening, darlin'," he drawled out his typical greeting, a twisted grin tugging at his lips. With sure steps, he closed the distance between them, bending at the waist to bring them face to face. "Are you ready for the fun?"

Nicci shuddered, turning her face away from his. His depravity sickened her. The stench of his breath was suffocating, the vile threats hidden in his dark eyes lecherous and disgusting. The Emperor laughed, and wrapped a beefy hand around her wrists, hauling her up to her feet as he unceremoniously tossed her onto the bed. She groaned, wincing as pain shot through her side from the ribs he'd broke during their last session. He had punished her with a severe beating for having the gall to try and kick him in the groin.

It had been worth it, if just to see the expression of irritation on his face.

The Emperor straightened up to his full height, his dark eyes roaming over her semi-nude body as he slowly removed his lambskin vest. Nicci clenched her jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her trembling with misery at her fate. He laughed raucously, tossing his vest aside as he grinned down at her.

Nicci pursed her lips and met his gaze with a defiance glare, which only caused the Emperor to laugh even more.

"Oh, you're beautiful when your insolent, darlin'," the Emperor smirked deviously, dropping his hands to unbuckle his belt. "However, you're just here for… moral support."

The tension in her body rose significantly. Moral support? What did he mean by that?

That's when she heard the soft whimper of fear beside her. Twisting her neck, Nicci squinted in the dim light and caught the glimpse of the silhouette on the other side of the bed. It only took her a moment to recognize the shapely curves and delicate features of the gagged Mother Confessor.

"Kahlan?" she moaned out in horror.  _No. No. No… the monster! How could he do this!_

The Emperor chuckled low and deep. "Oh… I've so been looking forward to this," he growled, pulling his trousers down and stepping out of them, his aroused state frightening Kahlan even more, judging by the confessor's quaking.

Nicci ignored the Emperor and his nakedness. Rocking on her back, she rolled herself onto her side. "Kahlan," she whispered softly, moving her bound hands up to reach for her friend. "I'm sorry. Spirits, I'm so sorry."

"You can't help her, darlin'," crowed the Emperor, his malicious grin gleaming in the candlelight. "She's had this coming for a long time now."

The Emperor's knees sank onto the mattress, causing it to dip as he crawled over Nicci, taking the opportunity to brush himself against her, smirking at her shiver of disgust.

"You should be happy, darlin'," the Emperor purred, stroking his hand down her face in a feigned tender manner. "You finally get a reprieve."

Nicci spat in his face. The Emperor rocked back on his knees, swaying slightly. He laughed, though, scrubbing his hand over his face as he wiped her spit from his eyes. Nicci hunched her shoulders and turned away from him, looking over at her friend. Their eyes met, and Nicci could see the terror filling Kahlan's eyes. She tried to impart on her all the comfort she could, but knew none of it would help.

Meanwhile, the Emperor was busy perusing his latest victim with a satisfied smug smile. He shifted over Nicci, leaning down to run his fingers through Kahlan's luscious dark tresses. He crooned softly, as if he was being romantic, oblivious to the way Kahlan shuddered at his touch. His hand dropped, skimming the line of her jaw and down the slope of her neck, leaving the gag in place over her mouth. His palm spread out over her chest, his large hand ripping at the white cloth covering her flesh.

The Emperor tore the confessor's dress to shreds, tossing the ruined fabric aside, littering the bed in streaks of fine white silk. Kahlan closed her eyes, tears streaking out the corners and running down her face. Nicci moved her bound hands, but all she could reach was a few strands of Kahlan's hair. She wrapped her fingers around them, stroking softly, trying to give the confessor as much support as possible.

She noticed he was taking his time in divesting Kahlan of her clothing, running his hands over ever inch of flesh he exposed in his slow and methodical exploration of the confessor's body. Nicci's heart pounded in her chest with the helplessness she felt. She wanted so badly to stop this, but she was powerless. All her magic was gone, taken away by the Chimes. And any physical strength she'd once had had been long since sapped during her own captivity and abuse by the very hands that were now running down Kahlan's pale thighs.

Nicci wiggled her torso and legs until she was closer, her head resting on the same pillow as the confessor's. She leaned into Kahlan's hair, closing her eyes as tears of her own filled them. "Be brave, Kahlan. Be strong. I am here. I'm not going to leave you."

Kahlan sobbed through the gag, sniffling and nodding just enough to acknowledge Nicci's words. The sorceress sighed, dejectedly, unable to do more then whisper soothing words into the ear of her friend. There was no silver lining to what was going to happen. Nothing could prevent it. Nothing would save Kahlan.

The Emperor was done with his thorough examination of the Mother Confessor's body. He hummed a low approval, before gripping Kahlan's legs and roughly pulling them apart.

"I see that giving birth has not diminished your beauty," he drawled out, his thick fingers darting between her legs. Kahlan shuddered and cried out, her scream stifled by the gag. The Emperor grinned, locking eyes with Nicci as he ran his fingers over Kahlan's folds, parting them to shove a finger inside her.

Kahlan struggled, her body quaking with pain and agony, hot tears streaking down her face. Nicci wanted to cry as well, the horror of it all so terrifying raw and heartbreaking. This was going to kill Richard when he found out what had been done to his beloved.

The Emperor dipped his head between Kahlan's thighs, his tongue flicking out to run up from the base of her folds to her sensitive nub. He opened his mouth, nipping at it with his teeth, causing Kahlan to shudder and cry out in pain. Nicci knew from experience that his attentions were not good enough to make her wet. There would be no natural lubrication to ease the pain of the Emperor's penetration. Presently, His fingers gripped Kahlan's hips as she squirmed, nails digging into her soft flesh. There would be bruises and cuts. "You taste sweet, Mother Confessor, like a ripe apple," his lips running up Kahlan's soft belly. "I can understand why the Lord Rahl desires you so much."

His hand moved up and he palmed her breast, squeezing her painfully. Nicci watched as he drew blood, rolling herself further into Kahlan's side, trying to give the confessor the comfort of her touch. To her credit, the confessor did not cry out, even while gagged. Nicci was impressed by Kahlan's strength.

The Emperor grinned wickedly, tugging at Kahlan's legs as he spread them ever wider. He slipped around Nicci and settled himself over Kahlan, his mouth at her jaw and throat, his tongue flicking out to lather her pale flesh with his saliva. "Now, confessor," he murmured in a dark voice. "It's time to break you. Once I've finished ruining you, your beloved Lord Rahl will no longer want you."

"He lies, Kahlan," Nicci hissed into Kahlan's ear, only loud enough for her to hear. "Richard loves you with all his heart. No matter what this monster does, he will never stop loving you."

The Emperor's hand dropped between their bodies and Kahlan's eyes shot wide open at the sheer size of him as he positioned himself against her opening. He leered down at her.

"So I'm bigger than him?" it came out like a question, but it was a statement. " _Good_." He grinned smugly, and then without preamble thrust his hips violently, impaling Kahlan with his large manhood.

Kahlan quivered, her scream could not even be stifled by the gag around her throat. The Emperor gritted his teeth, snapping at her throat as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward into her, causing her to scream again, writhing in agony. Nicci wanted to claw at him, rip him apart with her dark magic. But she was helpless, forced to watch as he defiled one of the most courageous women she'd ever known.

"Richard is going to kill you," Nicci snarled at the Emperor as he glanced over at her with a smug satisfied grin.

"Let him try, darlin'," he drawled out, his voice raspy and raw from his exertions as he gripped Kahlan harshly with his large hands, pounding into her with even more ferocity. "Let him try."

XXX

Sister Bree closed the tent flap, no longer interested in watching the violation of the Mother Confessor. When General Jor Vicck and his squadron had captured her, the Sister of the Dark had been looking forward to witnessing the vile abuse that would be inflicted upon the confessor, but now it only caused her stomach to churn with uneasy feelings.

Ducking out of the Emperor's pavilion, Bree hurried across the muddy camp to the tent where she was looking after the child of the Lord Rahl and Mother Confessor.

Entering the tent, Bree came to a stumbling halt, finding that she was not alone. She looked upon the intruder with cautious eyes. With his back towards her, all she could see was his long leather fur cloak. His hair was freshly cut and cleaned, the moisture from his bath still present. The fact he'd even had a bath told her that he was no mere soldier. He was an officer.

The baby let out a soft cry, wanting attention, as all newborns do. Bree recognized it as a plea for sustenance. The child was hungry. But she stayed frozen to her spot, unsure of the menacing man before her.

"Who are you?" she snapped out, finally having enough of the encroachment into her domain.

The man slowly spun around, his hands outstretched, the baby squirming in his arms. Bree held her breath, a moment's hesitation that was against her better judgment, before flicking her eyes up to see the face of the intruder.

"Vicck," she snarled, sneering at the man. By the Keeper, she loathed him.

"Sister Bree," he returned her greeting in kind, bowing his head slightly in mock respect.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, taking a step forward and pulling her red cloak tighter around her slim frame, shivering in the cold air.

"This child is important to the cause, Sister Bree," Vicck answered her, his voice calm and steady. "The Emperor may be blinded by… sentimentality… when it comes to you, but I am not."

Bree narrowed her eyes, uncertain how to take that. She knew that the Emperor was twisted enough to believe he might have feelings for her, but she was unaware that others knew of this. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, yet still crossed her arms and met Vicck's hard gaze with defiance and determination.

"Out of all in this vile camp, I am the only one qualified to look after the child," Bree responded to Vicck's implied doubts.

The general's pursed lips tugged upwards into a sly knowing grin. "Not for long, Sorceress," he said. "Isn't the Emperor currently working on breaking the Mother Confessor?"

"The child is newborn, conception cannot occur yet," Bree answered confidently. "It will be a while before the Order will have a dream walker with confessor powers."

Vicck chuckled darkly. "It doesn't matter," he said, straightening his shoulders. "This child is all we need. He is the Kai'taug."

" _Kai'taug_?" Bree furrowed her brow, confused. "What… what are you going on about?"

The general's teeth showed when he smiled, pleased and rapturous. "Your usefulness is at an end, Witch Whore!"

Bree opened her mouth to protest, when suddenly shadows materialized into hooded men, all standing in a circle around them. Their robes were rough and hewn by wear and tear. Loose threads and soiled rags covered their thinned bodies. Their heads shielded by ominous cowls. The sight made Bree's breath catch in her throat. There was only one explanation for a blatant display of magic in defiance to the power of the Chimes of Death.

 _Sorcerers_.

Only they could be so bold to tempt fate by showing their ability to still access their gift.

So it was true. The Brotherhood of the Order was here now, in D'Hara… in the camp of the Imperial Order, awaiting the fall of the People's Palace and all of the New World.

A thin nasally laughter filled the air, and the sorcerers parted, letting in the tall frail figure of Brother Narev. His scrawny hand reached up and pulled back his cowl, revealing his hollowed eyes and creased brow, wrinkles covering a weathered tired face, frame by light thinning grey hair. Bristles dotted his chin, evidence that he'd forgone shaving for the past couple of days. His leathered skin was stretched in a twist grin of ghoulish delight.

He raised his hands and clapped loudly, the sound of it resounding throughout the tent interior. The baby quieted in Jor Vicck's hands, as Narev strolled into the circle, slowly stepping around Bree as he examined her with cunning eyes.

"You amuse me, Sister Bree," he said, his voice a wheeze of an old man. He was so very old, yet so very powerful as well. Bree was not ashamed to admit that she feared him.

Narev stepped closer to her and she recoiled slightly, making his hollow dry laugh fill the room again.

"Excellent," he chuckled, clasping his hands in front of his chest, taking up the posture of a humble servant of the Creator. It was a persona, really. Bree had seen through the dogma and doctrine to see the true evil behind the Brother's intent.

"The child is healthy," Vicck spoke up, calling his master's attention.

Narev's eyes locked with Bree's for a moment, before looking away, glancing over at Vicck and the child. "Good," he wheezed, the force of his lungs struggling through the word. "Good."

"What's going on?" Bree asked, annoyed by the tremor in her voice.

Brother Narev ignored her. He shuffled across the ground to the big general and held out his arms. Vicck shifted his hold on the infant and lowered him into Narev's waiting hands. The sorcerer gazed down in awe.

"Excellent," he crooned softly, running a thin clawed finger along the child's cheek. "Our weapon has arrived. Soon the Creator's Glory will be upon us."

Narev turned, his eyes flicking up to Bree as he cradled the child to his chest. It was an odd sight, a newborn babe in the arms of a man so ancient that death seemed to be constantly knocking at his door. Narev moved around Bree once more, his critical gaze making her shudder.

"It has been a pleasure, my dear," he offered with an insincere smile. "But you're services are no longer required. Say hello to the Keeper for me." Narev gave a nod to General Vicck, and then shuffled out of the room, his entourage following him.

Bree stood frozen in her spot, unable to speak or move. Her eyes glanced over at General Vicck, watching in horror as the man slowly removed his sword from its scabbard, the metal scratching. She began to tremble, all her doubts and misgivings about everything immediately flooding her mind as she glimpsed her end nigh. Jor Vicck licked his lips, and lowered the blade as he crept over to her.

"Father?" Bree murmured in despair, praying to the Keeper.

"Shh," Vicck hushed as he came closer, his eyes soft and oddly reassuring. "It will all be over soon. Tes'vorgo has begun."

Bree felt a sharp pain in her gut, and she shook, her mouth dropping in a strangled gasp as the blade cut into her flesh. A fluid warmth spread out from her flesh, flowing down her legs and pooling around her feet. Her insides burned like she was on fire. Her vision blurred and her lungs ached for oxygen. Vicck's large hand cupped the back of her head, cradling it gently as he pulled her to him, impaling her further onto the blade. She wanted to scream and cry out as her knees gave out, but the pain was too excruciating, too overwhelming to allow her any solace or reprieve.

Her eyes watered as she looked up at General Jor Vicck. He smiled almost tenderly at her, his fingers digging into her soft brunette hair. "Be at peace, witch," he whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips before the final twist of his sword.

Bree quaked, and gasped into his hot mouth—so alive and welcoming, before falling back into darkness.

And then there was nothing.


	64. Dawn of Hope

Kahlan held Daphne to her breast, softly stroking the downy hair along her tiny head. The little blue eyes looked up at her, and she smiled back, gently running her fingers along the infant's chubby little cheek. Daphne cooed softly, nuzzling into her mother's touch. Seeing her baby in her arms made Kahlan's heart warm, but still… the guilt ran deep. She had no idea what had happened to her other baby… he son. She was afraid what Richard would say once he returned.

Because he  _was_  going to return. He had too!

Sighing, Kahlan adjusted her hold on Daphne, freeing one of her arms, so she could reach up and brush some of her long hair back from her face. They were still in the Garden of Life. After feeding Daphne, Kahlan had taken the little girl for a little walk around the lush indoor garden. After the chaos of the afternoon, it had gotten oddly quiet in the evening, which Kahlan found slightly unnerving. She tried not thinking about what might be happening to her twin sister, but it was difficult.

Since their similar appearance, the confessor knew that Cynthia would most likely be mistaken for her, and no doubt be punished and abused with that in mind. Kahlan shuddered, trying to block out the images of what sort of abuse was being forced upon her sister.

She'd spent most of the night with her newborn daughter, tending to her needs or just watching her sleep. Daphne looked so serene and beautiful when at rest. All this chaos going on around them, and this little creature was blissfully unaware… content and happy, nestled in her mother's embrace.

 _This is how it was supposed to be_ , Kahlan thought, somewhat bitterly. If the fates had only been kinder, then maybe she would not be alone in such trying times. She desperately wanted Richard by her side. She ached for him. Her heart felt empty with him gone, and she longed to just feel his arms wrapped around her once again. His love gave her strength, empowered her in a way that nothing ever had.

Daphne made a soft gurgle in her sleep, and Kahlan sighed, looking down at the sleeping babe, rocking her arms gently to settle her.

Night had turned to dawn, finding them alone in a corner of the garden, undisturbed. Kahlan had wandered off, after she assured Zedd she would remain within the garden. She just wanted to be alone with her daughter… and her thoughts. But now that the sun was cresting, Kahlan knew it was time to seek out the others and do her duty. She was the Mother Confessor and wife of the Lord Rahl. With Richard away, she was the de facto leader of the D'Haran Empire they were building—an alliance between two old enemies, brought together by the love shared between a Seeker and his Confessor, bounded by marriage and fidelity.

Ducking her head, Kahlan stepped lightly around the trees and brush, letting her eyes meander over the wildflowers and ferns. This place really was lovely. She wished she'd been aware of it sooner. A sad smile formed on her face as she thought about all the private moments she could have shared with Richard if she'd known about the Garden of Life. But it was all just wistful thinking. What was past was past. It could not be changed. She needed to concentrate on the present, and the current events happening around her.

Making another turn around a patch of high ferns, Kahlan came to the spot where the others were gathered. Zedd and Nathan were in a heated argument, the latter stifling what he was about to say when his eyes glimpsed her approach. Zedd scoffed, agitated, about to make a further retort, when he realized his opponent's gaze. Looking over his shoulder, his long wavy grey hair bouncing with the movement, the First Wizard's eyes caught hers.

"Kahlan, my dear, you're awake," he stated the obvious. Everyone else seemed to be holding his or her tongues.

Unsure what the row had been about, Kahlan inclined her head, adjusting Daphne in her arms. She looked around at the others, trying to gauge their mood. "What's going on?"

Zedd pursed his lips, clearly not wanting to say anything. Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but the wizard cut him off with a glare. Kahlan bit her lower lip and watched them, waiting. The two old men weren't going to tell her anything. So, she turned to the others.

"Verna?"

The Sister of the Light let out a heavy sigh and nodded. She snatched a piece of paper out of Lieutenant Ryger's hand. "In the early morning, this was shot into the city from the enemy camp below," Verna explained, holding up the paper. Kahlan squinted, spotting the hole from where the paper had been punctured by an arrow.

Warren placed a hand on Verna's shoulder as the sorceress collected herself for what she was about to say.

"What is it?" Kahlan asked, shifting her gaze from Verna to Zedd and Nathan. Jennsen was pale and was slightly trembling. Rikka and the Mord'Sith were as stone-faced as ever. Lieutenant Ryger was striving to hide a troubling frown, but was failing.

"The Order is asking for an unconditional surrender," Verna asserted, her face pinching up in an attempt to control her emotions.

Kahlan set her jaw. "Well… that is out the question," she nearly snapped, her face growing hot with indignation.

"There is more," Verna interjected.

"More?"

Verna licked her lips nervously and flirted her eyes over to Zedd for support. The wizard took the cue, and steepled his hands in front of his face, his eyes closed as he breathed in deeply, preparing himself. "Kahlan… they claim that we have no reason left to stand against them," the old wizard informed her. "They say that if we do not surrender now, they will kill the Mother Confessor."

"They'll do that no matter what we do," Kahlan asserted. "Hasn't that been one of their goals all along?"

"No, Kahlan, you don't understand," Zedd sighed, exasperated.

"Then what?" Kahlan demanded, clutching Daphne closer to her. "What is it? Tell me."

"They claim they've captured you," Nathan blurted out, shooting a glance at Zedd. "No one here seems to have the guts to tell you the truth."

"Cynthia," she gasped, remembering. "They have Cynthia."

Zedd inclined his had, his expression grim. "Yes, dear one. They have Cynthia."

"And they think she is you," Nathan added, earning a head slap from Verna.

Scowling in annoyance with the prophet, the sorceress turned back to Kahlan, her eyes softening. "They won't kill her," she assured.

"I know," Kahlan replied, staggering back, already knowing the answer. This was all just confirmation of her earlier thoughts. "They've had other plans for me… plans that they are now using Cynthia for."

She closed her eyes against the horror penetrating her mind. Her breath felt shallow and she struggled to fill her lungs. "Oh, Cynthia," she wept, unable to keep it out. Tears prickled at her vision, and she swayed. Jennsen was at her sighed immediately, wrapping her arms around her to help keep her standing. Kahlan accepted the comfort, and leaned into her sister-in-law.

Daphne squirmed and mewled softly. Kahlan sucked in a deep breath, her chest heaving, as she shifted her hold on the baby. She wiped at her eyes with her free hand, and blinked until her vision was less blurry. "We will not surrender," she proclaimed, straightening her posture as she faced the others. "Richard would not want us to surrender. He'd want us to fight. And that is what we'll do!"

XXX

The light that filtered through the canvas was warm and brighter than it should be for the darkness that had been witnessed inside the tent, but nonetheless, it still lit the dim room.

The first thing she registered when she woke up was the pain. The excruciating pain ran throughout her entire body, but mainly located in her lower body, around her hips and pelvis… centered between her legs. Hot tears immediately rolled out of her eyes, falling down her pale skin and onto the uncomfortable pillow under her head.

It hurt to move, but Cynthia forced her neck to bend, needing to see what had been done to her. Her legs were caked in dried blood… her blood. Right… she remembered what happened, what he did to her. It was more violent and brutal than she had expected. When she'd witnessed the Emperor taking Sister Bree, he had never been that vicious. She supposed it was like that because in some twisted way he believed he loved the Sister of the Dark.

Besides her neck, Cynthia couldn't move a muscle. Her legs were stiff and achy. All she could do was tremble. It felt like she had been ripped apart, like she'd been impaled on a spike and hung up for the crows to eat. Fresh tears streamed down her face as she remembered that the very same thing happening to her beloved Jared. What would he think of her now? Spoiled and ruined. She cried hard and long, not knowing the duration. Not caring.

"Kahlan…," the voice was soft, a whisper in the dim tent.

Cynthia gasped and sniffled, trying to contain her emotions. She was ashamed at how much she'd screamed last night, but she couldn't help it. It was just so awful.

"I'm so sorry, Kahlan," the voice came again. "I… I wanted to stop him. I wish I could have taken your place… take your suffering away."

"No," she managed to croak out. "It… it is better this way."

"What? Kahlan, no… don't say that," the voice said. "You don't deserve any of this."

"I know," Cynthia closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, trying to ignore the pain all over her body. It rippled like waves, ebbing and flowing, her veins on fire. There was a sharp pull on her chest, and she vaguely remembered him biting her left breast, drawing blood with his teeth. "But it is still better this way. Better me, than her."

Someone moved, and the bed dipped slightly. Cynthia could hear the rattle of chains. Turning her head, she saw Nicci. Her mind warped off as she remembered the sorceress there last night, during the terrible nightmare, trying with all her might to comfort her while the Emperor did his worse, defiling her like she'd never been defiled before.

"Nicci?" she questioned, her brow knitting together in confusion. It hurt to do so, but she ignored it.

"Yes, Kahlan, it is me," Nicci asserted, inching closer. There was obviously enough slack from the chains to allow her to crawl over to her. The sorceress tentatively reached up and brushed some of the matted hair from Cynthia's face. "You're okay now, Kahlan. He's gone. I'm here. I'm not leaving you." Nicci continued to caress her face with her hand, and Cynthia closed her eyes, taking the comfort.

After an interval, which gave her time to build up her strength, so she could fight back the agonizing pain throughout her entire body, Cynthia opened her eyes and sought out Nicci's, needing her to know the truth.

"I… I'm not Kahlan," Cynthia stammered out, meeting the sorceress's gaze. Her chest fluttered with each breath, and she closed her eyes as tears threatened.

"What?" Nicci startled, her eyes flicking over her face.

"It's me, Cynthia," she wheezed out, stifling the pain, trying not to think of it.

"Cynthia!" Nicci gasped, surprised. "Oh… Cynthia."

The sorceress's eyes soften as she turned back to her, running her hand gently down the side of her face, still comforting her. Cynthia let out a sigh of relief at finally admitting the truth. The pain asserted itself, and she wallowed in it for a moment, taking what little comfort she could from Nicci's caresses.

Opening her eyes, Cynthia heaved in a lungful of air. It was agony to do so, but she needed the oxygen. "Kill me," she whispered, pleadingly.

"What?"

"Please, oh spirits…," tears were welling up as she trembled. "Kill me."

"I… I can't," Nicci shook her head, her eyes growing watery. Her face was a mixture of horror and sorrow, confusing working its way in.

"Please," Cynthia choked out. "I… I don't want to go through that again."

"Spirits, I know, Cynthia," Nicci sobbed. "I know. It was awful."

"If… if you kill me… then… then maybe he'll think she's dead, and she'll be safe."

Nicci stared at her, baffled as to her meaning. But then it struck her and the sorceress shook her head. "No… no, no," she replied.

"Please, you must… if not for me, then for Kahlan," Cynthia was not above begging. She was naked, covered in her own blood and other bodily fluids. Her body felt like it had been torn apart. She couldn't move, and each breath she could manage was combined with a wave of pure agony. She had no dignity left except for how she would meet her end. "I… I'm begging you. For the love of the Creator, kill me."

"Oh, Cynthia…," Nicci sighed, lowering her head to hers, foreheads resting together. Their tears mixed as they both continue to cry. "I'm sorry, Cynthia. I'm  _so_  sorry, but I can't… not even for that. Even if I want to. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

Cynthia sniffled and managed to give a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Then I will suffer through what the bastard wants," she proclaimed, determined. "For Kahlan."

XXX

Zedd stepped out into the hallway, scrubbing his hands over his weathered face as he recalled the utter desolation on the Mother Confessor's face. With everything she'd been through, Kahlan hardly deserved the life that the fates had forced on her. His heart ached for the young woman, the love of his grandson's life. Not only had Richard's memories been stolen from him just after the two were finally able to marry and love one another, Kahlan now found herself in a situation where her long lost twin sister was being made to suffer in her stead. No one deserved the kind of anguished the spirits had placed on her.

"Zedd, hold up," it was Nathan jogging after him, his azure eyes keen and scheming.

He groaned. "Not now, Nathan," he grumbled, picking up his pace. Zedd loathed having yet another argument with the man. Nathan may be a prophet, but that did not give him the right to assert more influence than he already had. And just because he was a Rahl, as well, did not mean he could boss everyone else around.

"Oh, grow up, Zedd!" Nathan harrumphed, giving him a roll of his eyes. "We both know that something has to be done."

Zedd nodded begrudgingly in agreement. Yes. Something needed to be done. But not right now. "Give Kahlan some time to absorb the information," he said.

"Look, I know you don't want to think about it, but the Mother Confessor is not in a position to be making sound decisions right now," the prophet asserted as he came up alongside the wizard.

"Hence why I said to give her some time," Zedd waved his hands in irritation. "Even if this isn't the best time for her, she is still the Mother Confessor and wife of the Lord Rahl."

"We don't even know if Richard is alive," Nathan blurted out.

Zedd stopped, his shoulders tensing. He rounded on Nathan, using his full height to his advantage as he squared the prophet with a seething glare. "Don't you dare speak like that," Zedd growled.

"Look, Zedd, I understand," Nathan tried to placate him, raising his hands in submission. "He's your grandson… but you can't let sentiment infringe on your judgment at this juncture. The world is at a crossroads, and we need to act… now."

"Richard is far more than just my grandson," Zedd affirmed. "He is the Seeker of Truth… the one true Seeker."

"The first in a thousand years, yes, I know," Nathan inclined his head, letting out a deep sigh. "But that still does not preclude the fact that he may have died in his quest to rid us of the Chimes."

"I know, damn it! Don't you think I know that?" Zedd shouted, huffing and puffing in anger. "Richard is risking everything for the slimmest of chances that something can be done to stop them. He fully understands that we have no hope of defeating the Order without the aid of magic."

"Free will can only hold off destiny for so long," Nathan replied cryptically, looking off into space. "This was a battle started long ago, by wiser men, and even they could not see a better end."

"They were blinded by their own righteous beliefs," Zedd snapped back. "No one is to blame besides the guilty."

Nathan let out a long sigh. "True," he conceded. "We can do little but stand aside and let fate take its course, whatever that may be."

"What will be, will be," Zedd confirmed with a nod. "But if there is one thing Richard has taught me, it is not to lose hope." He placed his hand on Nathan's shoulder. "And have faith. Mine is in Richard and his abilities. I will not doubt him or his determination to see this to the end. Kahlan doesn't. And Neither should you."

There was a long pause as Nathan considered Zedd's words. Eventually, the prophet inclined his head. "I suppose your right," he said at length. "All we can do is hope that the pebble in the pond can make enough ripples in the water to shift the course of the future in our favor."

XXX

The sun was on the rise, sending rays of light and warmth down on the world below. He raised his hand above his face to shield his hands as he looked out at the ravine below. The wind was howling and whipping around him, his cloak flapping like a banner on high. The sun's rays warmed him against the chill of the high altitude. However, it mattered little. Soon they would be climbing down the slopes of the mountains, the spine of the Midlands, and down into the valley below.

"I always like watching the sunrise," he was startled out of his reverie by the sound of the voice behind him. It was Cara. Her eyes were fixated on the rising sun. "Benjamin would wake me before dawn and take me up to the highest ramparts of the Wizard's Keep. I'd grumble and curse, promise to do him bodily harm, but he'd still take me, grinning with that smirk of his."

Cara smiled softly at the memory. "We'd stand there, so close to each other, and watch as the sun rose above the distant hills. It was beautiful, the hues and colors. I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life."

The Mord'Sith shifted, looking down, after shyly. "I became quite fond of sunrises. It soothed me, reminded me that there was still beautiful things even when the world seemed to be falling in to darkness, that there was still light. It was then, on one of those morning, that Benjamin held me close and told me he loved me."

Cara sniffled and tugged the cloaks tighter around her shivering frame. "No one has ever told me that before, at least not in the way Benjamin did, and meant it… really meant it with all his heart and soul," she admitted softly, almost timid and shy. Richard's heart ached for her lonely life. He was beyond pleased that she had found Benjamin Meiffert. She deserved to have happiness after all the suffering she'd been through. "I… I think I found that even more beautiful than the sunrise."

Reaching up with a gloved hand, she wiped a stray tear away. "Don't you dare tell him I told you that," she gave him a little glare.

Richard chuckled softly, looking over his shoulder at his friend as he smiled warmly at her, giving a soft nod that her secret was safe with him. Cara was still bundled up tightly in blankets and fur cloaks. Last night had been exceedingly chilly and all three of them had been force to cuddle up for warmth—Cara in the middle, much to her chagrin. He laughed softly as he remembered the scene from the previous night.

_Cadelf just finished poking the fire embers to a nice burn and was snuggling in alongside the Mord'Sith, scooting closer to her body for more warmth. There was a half-second of silence, before Cara let out a shrill yelp._

" _Hey, old man, no funny business!" she snapped at the monk, whose arms had suddenly snaked around her middle._

" _It's just for warmth, Madam Mord'Sith," Cadelf calmly replied, a grin on his weathered face. "Believe me, I take no pleasure from being this close to you."_

" _What's that supposed to mean!?" Cara questioned, sounding affronted._

" _I meant no offense, Madam," Brother Cadelf chuckled, finding the whole situation highly amusing. "You're quite the specimen of womanhood, you know."_

" _Oh… Thanks, I guess. Then… I… wait a second!" Cara tilted her head. "Just a friendly reminder, Monk, I know seven different ways of making you writhe in agony with just my pinkie finger."_

" _No need for threats, Madam," Cadelf replied cheerfully._

" _And stop calling me 'madam'," the Mord'Sith huffed before turning her head away from the monk and snuggling further into the blankets surrounding them. "And you… don't say a thing!" she added before Richard could say anything, his eyes gleaming with amusement._

"What are you smiling at?" Cara asked, noticing his bemused expression and pursed lips.

"Nothing," Richard replied, smirking at her, his eyes twinkling. "Just thinking."

"Well stop it, it's annoying me," came Cara's retort, but it lack any bite to it.

He gave her a wiry grin, but inclined his head. Cadelf came up behind them, huffing and puffing, using a thick branch for assistance. The mountain hiking had started to affect him more than he was letting on. His ice-blue eyes scan the vista beyond the cliff edge.

"We're almost there," he asserted, confident and sure.

"You think?" Cara questioned, uncertain, leaning slightly to the side, as if trying to avoid any contact with the monk.

"Positive," Cadelf jut out his jaw and stared down at the valley.

Richard shifted his feet and tugged his cloak tighter around his frame. The sword at his hip was cool and solid. Ever since they made their way past Agaden Reach, there was a troubling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't from something he ate, as far as he knew. It was more of an ominous feeling that something was wrong, that something bad was going to happen.

Cadelf snorted, calling Richard back to the present. He glanced over to see Cara shaking her head, a wisp of a smirk on her pouty red lips. They must have been playfully bickering while he'd been lost in thought. Richard pushed the cloak away from his side, and adjusted his hand to rest it on the hilt of the Sword of Truth.

"Let's break camp and get a move on," he told them. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible."

He turned his gaze back to the valley below. The trees were tall and old. But there, in the distance, was a large rock face sticking up out of the pines and firs. The stone was the blackest black he'd ever seen, almost obsidian, but lacking that sheen and shine. It stood there, foreboding and menacing. And he knew it. Knew that that was where they must go—the corporeal home of the Chimes of Death.

Otherwise known as… the Ovens.


	65. Sacrifice

The journey down into the valley took less time than either one of their small company had estimated. Richard was surprised with the ease of their approach. Somehow, he had built up this anticipation of a harder struggle to reach the home of the Chimes of Death. It seemed reasonable to assume that such fierce and angry beings, such as these, would hold up in a dark and forbidding place. But that's not what greeted them. Quite the opposite, actually.

The Ovens, as it was called, teemed with life. Tall green trees, noble pines and regal ash, dotted the gentle slopes. The occasional craggy stone littered the ground, soft moss and lichen growing up the sides. There was a damp moistness that clung in the air, partly due to the graceful fall of water cascading over the high peak of the massive tall pillar of black obsidian rock jutting up into the air. The waterfall was serene and glorious in its sheer power to tame the mighty rock from whence it surged over and down into the waiting pool of crystal clear water. Richard wished that Kahlan were with him to enjoy such a magnificent sight.

The roar of the cascading water could be heard long before they even fully descended down into the valley. It would be deafening up-close. Despite the lack of any obstruction, Richard still remained cautious as they approached. What they hoped to achieve here was something that was going to require not only skill and fortitude, but an extreme amount of luck as well.

Cara jogged in front of him, her cloak flapping behind her like a cape as she skipped up the gradual natural steps honed out of the rock. She perched herself up on the jagged stone, looking out ahead. Cadelf took up the rear, the old monk barely watching his footing as he rummaged through his pack.

Stopping just at the base of the large rock formation, Richard heaved in a deep breath, welcoming in the brief reprieve from their vigorous pace. Cadelf halted behind him, slumping against the rock face, closing his eyes and wiping the sweat from his brow. Filling his lungs with the crisp cool air, taking note of the dampness in the air, Richard let his muscle relax from the tension he'd been holding in since they had first caught sight of the towering obsidian monolith that signaled the location to the Ovens.

"See anything?" he hollered up at Cara.

The Mord'Sith narrowed her eyes, squinting into the distance, her long braid flowing over her right shoulder. He smiled, remembering when her hair had been shoulder length. He was glad she'd chosen to grow it back out once he had become the Lord Rahl. It still baffled him, the concept of what he'd done, how he'd assumed the role of leader, and not being able to remember. There were bits and pieces that past through his subconscious—memories, but they were fleeting… and never enough.

"No… nothing, just… just more trees and rocks," she called down, letting out a sigh. She flung her braid back, and gracefully bounced down the rock, once again taking advantage of the naturally honed steps in the stone. Puffing out a short breath, when she reached the bottom, Cara brought her hand up to tuck some loose blonde strands behind her ear. "We sure this is the place?"

"Positive," asserted Cadelf in a voice that brokered no argument. He held up the book, now closed. "All the signs point to this valley, and that obsidian pillar looks like it came straight from the very depths of the Underworld."

Cara inclined her head with a slight smirk. "Can't argue with you on that, monk," she said, her eyes wide with amazement that she was actually agreeing with the aged scholar.

Richard watched the exchange with amusement, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his sword. Cara noticed his smirk and shot him a small glare. He ignored her and simply shook his head before turning around to look off into the distance. Just beyond the top of the trees he could make out the glistening water plunging off the peak of the obsidian pillar.

"We should continue while we still have light," he said, glancing back at his companions. "I don't know about you, but I really wouldn't want to trudge through this forest so close to the den of death."

Brother Cadelf nodded gravely. "Your words are more true than you know, Lord Rahl," he said, enigmatically.

Richard knitted his eyebrows, unsure of the man's meaning. He was becoming tired of the old man's mysterious riddles. But, then again, Richard hadn't liked riddles. Kahlan and Zedd had informed him of his aversion to such things early on. Pet peeves, such as those, according to the wizard, had nothing to do with his memory, and were just a part of his personality. Though, Richard still wished he could remember it, rather than relying on others to tell him that it was something he didn't like.

Cara took a swig from her waterskin, and held it out, offering it to him. Richard took it with a nod, swallowing a quick sip of the cold water before giving it back, letting out a sigh of relief. She paused, and then tentatively offered some to Brother Cadelf. The monk smiled, appreciatively, and took a long gulp. After refastening the waterskin to her belt, Cara gave a brisk nod and then marched onwards.

Richard exchanged a grin with Cadelf before following her lead.

They walked slowly through the forest undergrowth. At some points the ferns grew to the height of his waist, and he had to watch it footing, especially when they were close to trees. The gnarled roots of an old ash yawned and snarled across the ground like an untamed river flowing through a dale. Clumps of mushrooms dotted the base of the tree, and for a moment, Richard pondered stopping to collect a few, knowing that they had precious few ingredients left to add to their nightly stews.

But the quest was approaching its end—at least that is what he hoped. So, he shrugged off the idea and continued on without a second glance.

The closer they got, the louder and more deafening the thunderous roar of the waterfall became. Richard felt a tight knot in his chest, worried about what the price that needed to be paid to stop the Chimes was. Shota had a gift with prophecy. However, her visions were never really that clear, and always seemed to have layers upon layers of meaning. It was never really easy to understand her. She could say one thing, but mean another.

There was one thing that was certain, though. Shota never really lied. Maybe she bent the truth, but she never outright lied to him. She had an agenda, but then again, everyone had an agenda. At the moment, Richard believed that her agenda aligned with theirs. The Chimes would be affecting her capabilities as much as they were affecting Zedd's and Nathan's, not to mention his own. The Chimes had also taken away his beloved Kahlan's confessor powers.

It would only take a little while long before the Chimes would consume all power held by the gifted, leaving the world bereft of magic. Having little to no memories of his youth, where he'd—according to Kahlan and Zedd—grown up without magic, Richard found it difficult to comprehend how he'd even survived. Magic seemed to be inherently bound in this world. And it was not all evil. Most of it was good and honest. It was only twisted into foul deeds by but a few some… like the Emperor, and Dark Rahl before him. Those who used it for hate where the true criminals.

The forest opened up before them, and Richard slowed as he took in the scenery around him. The soft breeze and the gentle sway of the trees had a calming effect on him. He closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds of the forest—what little he could hear over the din of the waterfall. Birds chirped and squirrels chattered, jabbering away as they harvested nuts for the winter. An owl hooted in the distance, and the hammering of a woodpecker worked its way through the cornucopia of noise.

And then it was silent… saved for the thunder of the waterfall.

Richard opened his eyes, and paused in the clearing, the tall grass nipping at his knees. Cara sensed his halt, and looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at him in confusion.

"Richard?"

"They're here," he said, feeling it. "I can sense their presence in this place."

"They?"

"The Chimes, madam Mord'Sith… the Chimes!" Brother Cadelf hollered, looking worried. His frown deepened, displaying the numerous wrinkles that lined his face. His ice blue eyes scanned the clearing, anxious and concerned.

Cara dropped a hand to the pommel of her short-sword, her eyebrows slowly drifting together as she glanced around the clearing with guarded eyes. "I hate this," she grumbled. "How can we defend ourselves against unseen forces?"

"Anything is possible, my Mord'Sith friend," Cadelf shuffled closer to the group, as he had been at the edge of the clearing when they'd all come to a halt. "The Lord Rahl has proven that more than anyone else."

"Uh?" Cara's gaze flicked over to Richard.

"He found a way to love a confessor without becoming confessed, did he not?" Cadelf stated the obvious. "If a man can do such a thing, I wager he can do anything he sets his mind to."

"True," a wiry grin cut across Cara's face, though she kept her fingers tightly wrapped around the hilt of her short-sword.

Richard shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He eased his hand off the handle of the Sword of Truth. Unlike many things in the world at present, its magic was still strong and potent. He wondered if that had something to do with how it had been created.

"We should keep moving," he said, his voice steadier than he had expected. "We're almost there."

Cadelf inclined his head, running a hand over the white bristles on his chin. "We should be safe until we reach their sanctuary. Though the drain of magic has sapped much of the world, it has not all been consumed. The Ovens is strong in the subtractive magic.

Shifting his cloak, Richard shivered in the cool breeze as he adjusted his pack and forced his legs to move. They felt stiff, as if he'd been standing in place for years, when it had just been a matter of minutes. He clenched his jaw and glared ahead, stalking past Cara, who wore a dumbfounded expression. She pursed her lips and raised her sword a short distance out of its scabbard before letting it fall back into place, checking to make sure it wasn't stuck.

The old monk moseyed on past Cara, mumbling under his breath as he adjust his pack, once again ruffling through it in search of something. His cowl had been pulled up over his head, hiding his features.

Cara took up the end of their party, cautiously glancing over her shoulder, before continuing on into the dense underbrush of the forest.

XXX

Richard stood on the jutting rock, leaning forward on one foot as he gazed out at the sight before him. The water cascaded off the sheer face of the obsidian monolith, splashing and thundering down into the pool below. The water remained serene and calm, except for the small ripples caused by the waterfall. The air was thick with damp moisture, and he had to work his lungs harder with each breath, but it was not that difficult.

The chill was gone, as well. He had not expected that, but figured he should have, considering the name given to this place.

The Ovens.

It literally was like an oven. Vapors of white steam puffed out from around the dark rock from where it was touched by the cold water, generating a billowing cloud of white that was reminiscent of mist, minus the chill.

Cara stood behind him; her cloak pushed back, hands on her hips. She stood ramrod-straight, alert and watchful. This was the home of the Chimes of Death, the dangerous ethereal beings that had begun the consumption of all magic from the world of the living.

Not far behind, Cadelf sat on a fallen moss covered log, nose buried in the red leather-bound book, the word  _Kai'taug_  emblazed in golden lettering. He watched as the old scholar's ice blue eyes scanned across page after page. The clergyman had been flicking through the yellowed pages of the old tome for the last thirty minutes, rechecking facts before they headed off into the Ovens.

"I don't like this place," Cara stated blandly, though there is a hint of a waver to her voice. He glanced over his shoulder, noting the worried expression ghosting over her features.

"Neither do I, Cara," he concurred, stepping back away from the water. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze.

Richard moved past her and stopped before Cadelf, giving the old monk a hard stare. "Almost finished?"

"Just a few more pages, Lord Rahl," Cadelf replied, never taking his eyes off the page he was reading. "Almost there."

Cara huffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. She grumbled something under her breath, but he didn't catch it. He let it slide. They were all in a great deal of stress.

The thud of the book closing snapped Richard's attention back to Brother Cadelf. The monk heaved himself up from his seat on the fallen log, slipping the book into the folds of his habit, pulling his cowl up over his head. "I've got it," he informed them with pursed lips. Richard narrowed his eyes, trying to read the blank expression on the man's face. He gave up with a shrug and turned back to look up at the obsidian monolith.

"Where to, Monk?" Cara questioned, quirking up an eyebrow.

Cadelf trudged down a muddy path alongside the glimmering pool of rippling water, his brown habit and cloak bustling around him. Raising a hand, he pointed towards the base of the rocky obsidian cliff. "There," he glanced back over his shoulder, gracing Cara with a tight smile. "Behind the waterfall there should be an opening."

"Great… another cave," the Mord'Sith groused, gritting her teeth and rolling her eyes as she adjusted the pack on her shoulders.

Cadelf looked towards Richard, and stared at him for a long beat before giving a slight nod, and clearing his throat. "Let's hurry. I fear our presence won't go unnoticed."

They skirted the fringe of the pool, staying close together as they hiked around the occasional jutting rock and fallen tree. Scattered throughout the surrounding area, Richard found evidence of recent fires. He'd known that there would be. One of the Chimes— _Sentrosi_ —was the embodiment of fire.

The wind rustled some nearby leaves, startling him. He was reaching for his sword, and hesitated, feeling the tightness in his chest… the worry, the fear.  _Vasi_  was the wind. He cast an anxious glance toward the rippling water.  _Reechani_  was water. The three sisters… the three Chimes of Death. Richard was completely aware of their power. And unlike others, he respected that power. He was very much conscious of the fact that they'd encountered the Chimes a number of times on their journey. He did not think they could survive another encounter, especially in a place such as this, where the Chimes were at their strongest.

Cadelf clambered over a craggy formation of rocks, slick with wet lichen and moss. "Watch your footing, Lord Rahl," he hollered back. "It get slippery from here on."

Narrowing his brow, Richard clenched his jaw tight, using his hands to secure a grip before following the old monk. They were now much closer to the waterfall. He could feel the castoff from the spray hitting his face. The roar was deafening, rendering all other sounds indistinguishable from the din of the cascading water.

Cara nearly slipped at one point. She scowled and remained sullen for the rest of the trek through the rocks. Richard told her to use both hands to get a better hold, but she refused, insisting on keeping one hand near her sword at all times.

As they got closer, the stone became smoother, making it easier to walk. However, Richard still took his steps with caution, as the stone was still slick and wet. He tugged his cloak tighter around his frame, trying to shield himself from the blast of cold water. It did little to help. They all were already soaked to the bone. Cadelf's cowl stuck to his head, making him look almost like a wraith from the netherworld.

"Behind the waterfall!" the old scholar shouted over the cacophony, gesturing exaggeratedly with his hands.

With careful steps, they made their way along the face of the obsidian stone, slipping behind the sheet of water and into the damp dank cavern beyond. Cara grumbled, wringing out her long braid. Cadelf pushed his cowl back and shuffled further into the darkness. Richard followed him, dropping one hand down to the hilt of the Sword of Truth, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

The darkness was forbidding, yet comforting at the same time. A strange oddity. Squinting in the blackness, Richard could barely make out the round smoothed stone ahead of them. He approached cautiously, glancing over at Cadelf as the old man stopped to catch his breath. Richard patted him on the shoulder, impressed at how the man had remained so steady and calm during their hike through the rocks. It had been difficult finding footing, yet Cadelf had been firm and resolute in leading the way.

"What is that?" Cara called out, taking up the rear of their small company.

Richard approached the curved stone, reaching out to run his fingertips along its surface. It was flat at the top and gave way to nothing, like a wall. He pushed up slightly on his toes and looked over the edge. A gasp left his mouth as he jumped back.

"Richard!" Cara was alert, halfway through unsheathing her blade.

He held up a hand to reassure her that he was fine. He took a deep breath, and moved closer again, giving his discovery another examination. It was a well, nestled into the interior wall of the cavern. But not just any ordinary well.

"It's a Sliph Well," Richard informed them, arching his neck to look back at his companions. Cara raised her eyebrows. Cadelf, however, appeared nonplussed by the revelation. Richard zoned in on that. "You know?"

"I… suspected," Cadelf confessed. "The Ovens is not a natural formation. It was created long ago, by the same wizards who brought life to the Chimes. It was supposed to be a prison, of sorts, a place to hold their weapons until such time as they needed to release them."

"It had the opposite effect, though," Richard finished with a nod of his head. "The Ovens became a sanctuary for the Chimes. A place of refuge instead of a cage."

"Great," harrumphed Cara. "So what do we do now?"

Cadelf favored her with a wiry grin, and shuffled around her, pointing towards an opening in the rock, barely visible in the dim light. "We climb the steps up to the peak of the pillar, and do what must be done."

 _And pay the price_ , Richard thought glumly as they drifted away from the Sliph well and began the climb up the spiral staircase that had been carved out of the stone.

XXX

Cara staggered back against the wind. Richard reached out to steady her. She stiffened, slightly offended at his assistance, but still inclined her head in thanks. Now on steady feet, Cara took a couple of steps out onto the flat top of the obsidian rock, flicking her eyes around for any sign of danger. Richard and Cadelf wandered off to the edge, gazing down at the valley below.

Sucking in a quick breath, Cara worked at stabilizing her rapid heart beats. The climb up the interior stairwell had been more difficult than she had anticipation. It wasn't the exertion required to make the actual physical climb that had sapped her strength. Memories from her youth—from her training—had assaulted her. Images and memories of being locked away in a small dark chamber had bombarded her, shattering her calm…  _rodents biting at her toes_.

She had been so afraid back then. The rats had been like monsters… little monsters that kept nibbling at her. But then she grew courage, and killed them. She was strong. Not weak.

She was Mord'Sith.

Turning on her heels, Cara walked up alongside Richard to gaze down at the pool. The source of the waterfall was to their left—runoff from the mountains. She closed her eyes and let the wind caress her face. Slowing her breathing, she allowed herself to imagine Benjamin's hand gliding up her cheek, his touch tender and loving. Spirits, she hoped he was okay. When they got back from this blasted quest, she was going to haul him off to their bedchambers and curl up under the thick duvet with him for a good week.

The sharp sound of steel rang through the air, startling her out of her pleasant thoughts. Cara opened her eyes, shocked to see Cadelf gripping the Sword of Truth in his hands, holding the blade at Richard. She mentally admonished herself for not paying attention and getting lost in her thoughts of her lover.

"Cadelf!" Richard shouted, confusion and hurt mixing in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Lord Rahl," Cadelf stammered, his face wrought with regret and remorse. "I wish there was another way. I read the instructions over and over, searching… but there was no other way."

Cara reached for her sword.

"Don't move!" the old man jerked the blade towards her, before turning it back to Richard.

Richard raised his hands in surrender, clearly growing frustrated. "I thought you were our friend, Cadelf?"

"I am, Lord Rahl… I am!" Cadelf asserted, shaking his head vigorously. "Spirits knows I wish it could be different, but I am just a servant to the designs of fate."

Cara stepped closer to Richard, wanting desperately to shield him from the madness that had gripped Brother Cadelf. The old man's eyes were wide and frightened, and she felt a worry course through her veins at the look of determination in his eyes. Whatever it was that he was planning, there was nothing she would be able to do to prevent it.

"Lower the sword," she growled, leveling him with a glare.

"I cannot," he quivered slightly, glancing at her before returning his gaze to Richard. "Forgive me, Lord Rahl."

"Cadelf!" Richard screamed.

Cara grabbed him by his arm, pulling him back, ready to dive in front of him and take the blow. But nothing happened. At least, not as she expected. She watched in horror as Cadelf turned the sword upon himself and drove it down into his chest. He cried out, blood spurting from his mouth as he dropped to his knees.

"NO!" Richard pushed her aside, jumping forward to catch the old man as he fell backward.

Cara stood fixed in place, confusion wracking her mind as to what just happened. She couldn't accept it. It made no sense.

"Why?" Richard questioned, tears freely flowing down his chest as he cradled the dying man in his arms. "Why would you do this?"

"I… knew from the beginning that one of us would not survive," Cadelf choked out, struggling through his explanation. "It was written in the texts. Someone had to pay the price for the deep magic needed to vanquish the Chimes and banish them from our world." He coughed up some blood, shaking as his eyes struggled for focus. Ragged breaths left his lips as he shook his head. "Had to be done. Had to be done. I was… the logical choice. Do not blame yourself, Lord Rahl…"

"Cadelf!" Richard shouted, clutching the man closer to him.

Cadelf groaned in pain. His eyebrows knitted together as he fought to hold on for a little while longer. "Blood of the willing is required… so I offer mine freely, without hesitation or doubt," he wheezed out, his eyes skidded up. With a trembling hand, he reached up and touched the side of Richard's face. "Don't be sad, Lord Rahl. It is my time. The Creator awaits me with opened arms. And I must go to her."

"We need you," Richard choked out in a sob. "Spirits, we need you!"

"Please, don't cry," his breath rasped in his throat. "It is a noble sacrifice I do."

Cara dropped down behind Richard, leaning against his back as she fought the tears welling up in her eyes. She had tried to harden her heart, but she'd been unsuccessful. The damn old dodger had found a way into her heart, just like the wizard Zedd. Both had become like grandfather figures to her. She could not lose them.

"Cara," Cadelf called out to her, raising a hand.

She did not even hesitate, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. He smiled up at her, weak and tired.

"I think I shall miss you most of all," he murmured, before going still.

Cara's eyes welled over with tears and she ducked her head, releasing her restraint and letting it all out. Richard gently lowered Cadelf's down, laying him out on the ground, reaching up to close his eyelids. If it were not for the blood and the paleness of his face, it would have looked as if the old monk had simply gone to sleep. Cara assumed that that was true, in a manner of speaking. Cadelf was now in that eternal slumber.

Richard sighed, his anguish evident in his slumped shoulders. He slowly wrapped his fingers around the pommel of the Sword of Truth, before pulling it out with a shudder. He let the sword drop to the ground, the metal clanging as it hit rock.

Looking up, Cara saw the same tears in his eyes. She reached up with a shaky hand and wiped the droplets from his cheek. He quivered, biting his lower lip before gazing at her with his soulful brown eyes. Gripping his shoulders, she pulled him into a fierce hug as they both grieved for the loss of their friend and companion.

For the first time in a long while, Cara found herself praying to the good spirits. Ever since she'd been broken and taken up the mantle of a Mord'Sith, she had given little credence to such things. But now, of all times, she surrendered to the need, hoping beyond hope that Cadelf's sacrifice would not be in vain.

XXX

The three of them soared through the wind, letting the feel of it soothe them. They'd consumed so much, and in such a short time. They felt overwrought with it, the energy it brought them. Like the corporal beings, they'd gorged themselves to the brim, stuffing their non-existent bellies until they were beyond full. It was a high for them, consuming the magic of others, almost flavorful.

The infant had been particularly tasty. The woman, not so much. They sampled her. She had no bite, no flavor. They wanted a kick, something to boost them up and send them soaring in the waves of ecstasy. And that small squirming riddle of flesh in her arms had provided them with an empowering and savoring treat.

They consumed it, ravishing all they could fine until it was sucked dry, with nothing but an empty shell. It was nothing now, like most things in the world of the living—devoid of magic. It had startled the three of them, when they'd first sensed it. They had not expected to feel such strong power within a tiny thing. Yet mortals were deceptive like that. Large things could come in small packages. So, they took it; had their fill and then some.

Now, however, they were filled with distressing feelings. Their home was under attack, being invaded by outsiders. Intruders had to be stopped. There was nothing more important than protecting the home they'd dwelled in since the beginning of their existence. Nothing could stop them from defending the place that protected them when they were at their weakest.

The threat… had to be neutralized.


End file.
